UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 


DAMAGED  GOODS 


DOCTOR  PLEADING  WITH  GEO.  DUPONT  NOT  TO  MARRY 


DAMAGED 
GOODS 


THE   GREAT   PLAY 

"LES  AVARIES" 

By  BRIEUX 


Novelized  with  the  approval  of  the  author 

BY 
UPTON  SINCLAIR 


UPTON  SINCLAIR 

STATION  A,  PASADENA,  CALIF. 


Cooyrigbt,  1913.  by 
THE  JOHN  C.  WINSTON  Co. 


PS 

35-37 


production  of  Eugene  Brieux's  play,  "Les 
Avaries,"  or,  to  give  it  its  English  title,  "Damaged 
Goods,"  has  initiated  a  movement  in  this  country 
which  must  be  regarded  as  epoch-making. 

— NEW  YORK  TIMES. 


464991 


SS.  AVENUE  TRUDAINE 


'£• 


PREFACE 

My  endeavor  has  been  to  tell  a  simple 
story,  preserving  as  closely  as  possible 
the  spirit  and  feeling  of  the  original.  I 
have  tried,  as  it  were,  to  take  the  play  to 
pieces,  and  build  a  novel  out  of  the  same 
material.  I  have  not  felt  at  liberty  to 
embellish  M.  Brieux's  ideas,  and  I  have  used 
his  dialogue  word  for  word  wherever  possi 
ble.  Unless  I  have  mis-read  the  author, 
his  sole  purpose  in  writing  Les  Avaries  was 
to  place  a  number  of  most  important  facts 
before  the  minds  of  the  public,  and  to  drive 
them  home  by  means  of  intense  emotion. 
If  I  have  been  able  to  assist  him,  this  bit 
of  literary  carpentering  will  be  worth  while. 
I  have  to  thank  M.  Brieux  for  his  kind 
permission  to  make  the  attempt,  and  for 
the  cordial  spirit  which  he  has  manifested. 

UPTON  SINCLAIR. 


(5) 


PRESS  COMMENTS  ON  THE  PLAY 


Damaged  Goods  was  first  presented  in  America  at 
a  Friday  matinee  on  March  14th,  1913,  in  the  Fulton 
Theater,  New  York,  before  members  of  the  Socio 
logical  Fund.  Immediately  it  was  acclaimed  by 
public,  press  and  pulpit  as  the  greatest  contribution 
ever  made  by  the  Stage  to  the  cause  of  humanity. 
Mr.  Richard  Bennett,  the  producer,  who  had  the 
courage  to  present  the  play,  with  the  aid  of  his  co- 
workers,  in  the  face  of  most  savage  criticism  from 
the  ignorant,  was  overwhelmed  with  requests  for  a 
repetition  of  the  performance. 

Before  deciding  whether  or  not  to  present  Damaged 
Goods  before  the  general  public,  it  was  arranged  that 
the  highest  officials  in  the  United  States  should  pass 
judgment  upon  the  manner  in  which  the  play  teaches 
its  vital  lesson.  A  special  guest  performance  for 
members  of  the  Cabinet,  members  of  both  houses  of 
Congress,  members  of  the  United  States  Supreme 
Court,  representatives  of  the  Diplomatic  corps  and 
others  prominent  in  national  life  was  given  in  Wash 
ington,  D.  C. 

(6) 


PRESS  COMMENTS 


Although  the  performance  was  given  on  a  Sunday 
afternoon  (April  6,  1913),  the  National  Theater  was 
crowded  to  the  very  doors  with  the  most  dis 
tinguished  audience  ever  assembled  in  America, 
including  exclusively  the  foremost  men  and  women 
of  the  Capital.  The  most  noted  clergymen  of 
Washington  were  among  the  spectators. 

The  result  of  this  remarkable  performance  was  a 
tremendous  indorsement  of  the  play  and  of  the 
manner  in  which  Mr.  Bennett  and  his  co-workers 
were  presenting  it. 

This  reception  resulted  in  the  continuance  of  the 
New  York  performances  until  mid-summer  and  is 
responsible  for  the  decision  on  the  part  of  Mr.  Ben 
nett  to  offer  the  play  in  every  city  in  America  where 
citizens  feel  that  the  ultimate  welfare  of  the  com 
munity  is  dependent  upon  a  higher  standard  of 
morality  and  clearer  understanding  of  the  laws  of 
health. 

The  Washington  Post,  commenting  on  the  Wash 
ington  performance,  said : 

The  play  was  presented  with  all  the  impressiveness  of  a 
sermon;  with  all  the  vigor  and  dynamic  force  of  a  great 
drama;  with  all  the  earnestness  and  power  of  a  vital  truth. 

In  many  respects  the  presentation  of  this  dramatization 
of  a  great  social  evil  assumed  the  aspects  of  a  religious  service. 
Dr.  Donald  C.  MacLeod,  pastor  of  the  First  Presbyterian 
Church,  mounted  the  rostrum  usually  occupied  by  the  leader 
of  the  orchestra,  and  announced  that  the  nature  of  the 
performance,  the  sacredness  of  the  day,  and  the  character 
of  the  audience  gave  to  the  play  the  significance  of  a  tremen- 


8  PRESS  COMMENTS 

dous  sermon  in  behalf  of  mankind,  and  that  as  such  it  was 
eminently  fitting  that  a  divine  blessing  be  invoked.  Dr. 
Earle  Wilfley,  pastor  of  the  Vermont  Avenue  Christian 
Church,  asked  all  persons  in  the  audience  to  bow  their  heads 
in  a  prayer  for  the  proper  reception  of  the  message  to  be 
presented  from  the  stage.  Dr.  MacLeod  then  read  the  Ber 
nard  Shaw  preface  to  the  play,  and  asked  that  there  be  no 
applause  during  the  performance,  a  suggestion  which  was 
rigidly  followed,  thus  adding  greatly  to  the  effectiveness  and 
the  seriousness  of  the  dramatic  portrayal. 

The  impression  made  upon  the  audience  by  the  remarkable 
play  is  reflected  in  such  comments  as  the  following  expressions 
voiced  after  the  performance: 

Rabbi  Simon,  of  the  Washington  Hebrew  Congregation — If  I 
could  preach  from  my  pulpit  a  sermon  one  tenth  as  powerful, 
as  convincing,  as  far-reaching,  and  as  helpful  as  this  per 
formance  of  Damaged  Goods  must  be,  I  would  consider  that 
I  had  achieved  the  triumph  of  my  life. 

Commissioner  Cuno  H.  Rudolph — I  was  deeply  impressed 
by  what  I  saw,  and  I  think  that  the  drama  should  be  repeated 
in  every  city,  a  matinde  one  day  for  father  and  son  and  the 
next  day  for  mother  and  daughter. 

Rev.  Earle  Wilfley — I  am  confirmed  in  the  opinion  that  we 
must  take  up  our  cudgels  in  a  crusade  against  the  modern 
problems  brought  to  the  fore  by  Damaged  Goods.  The 
report  that  these  diseases  are  increasing  is  enough  to  make 
us  get  busy  on  a  campaign  against  them. 

Surgeon  General  Blue — It  was  a  most  striking  and  telling 
lesson.  For  years  we  have  been  fighting  these  conditions 
in  the  navy.  It  is  high  time  that  civilians  awakened  to  the 
dangers  surrounding  them  and  crusaded  against  them  in  a 
proper  manner. 

Mrs.  Archibald  Hopkins — The  play  was  a  powerful  presen 
tation  of  a  very  important  question  and  was  handled  in  a 
most  admirable  manner.  The  drama  is  a  fine  entering  wedge 
for  this  crusade  and  is  bound  to  do  considerable  good  in 
conveying  information  of  a  very  serious  nature. 


PRESS'COMMENTS  9 

Minister  Pezet,  of  Peru — There  can  be  no  doubt  but  that 
the  performance  will  have  great  uplifting  power,  and  accom 
plish  the  good  for  which  it  was  created.  Fortunately,  we  do 
not  have  the  prudery  in  South  America  that  you  of  the  north 
possess,  and  have  open  minds  to  consider  these  serious 
questions. 

Justice  Daniel  Theio  Wright — I  feel  quite  sure  that  Damaged 
Goods  will  have  considerable  effect  in  educating  the  people 
of  the  nature  of  the  danger  that  surrounds  them. 

Senator  Kern,  of  Indiana — There  can  be  no  denial  of  the 
fact  that  it  is  time  to  look  at  the  serious  problems  presented 
in  the  play  with  an  open  mind. 

Brieux  has  been  hailed  by  Bernard  Shaw  as 
"incomparably  the  greatest  writer  France  has 
produced  since  Moliere,"  and  perhaps  no  writer 
ever  wielded  his  pen  more  earnestly  in  the  service 
of  the  race.  To  quote  from  an  article  by  Edwin 
E.  Slosson  in  the  Independent: 

Brieux  is  not  one  who  believes  that  social  evils  are  to  be 
cured  by  laws  and  yet  more  laws.  He  believes  that  most  of 
the  trouble  is  caused  by  ignorance  and  urges  education,  public 
enlightenment  and  franker  recognition  of  existing  conditions. 
All  this  may  be  needed,  but  still  we  may  well  doubt  its  effect 
iveness  as  a  remedy.  The  drunken  Helot  argument  is  not 
a  strong  one,  and  those  who  lead  a  vicious  life  know  more 
about  its  risks  than  any  teacher  or  preacher  could  tell  them. 
Brieux  also  urges  the  requirement  of  health  certificates  for 
marriage,  such  as  many  clergymen  now  insist  upon  and  which 
doubtless  will  be  made  compulsory  before  long  in  many  of 
our  States. 

Brieux  paints  in  black  colors  yet  is  no  fanatic;  in  fact,  he 
will  be  criticised  by  many  as  being  too  tolerant  of  human 
weakness.  The  conditions  of  society  and  the  moral  standards 


10  PRESS  COMMENTS 

of  France  are  so  different  from  those  of  America  that  his 
point  of  view  and  his  proposals  for  reform  will  not  meet  with 
general  acceptance,  but  it  is  encouraging  to  find  a  dramatist 
who  realizes  the  importance  of  being  earnest  and  who  uses 
his  art  in  defense  of  virtue  instead  of  its  destruction. 

Other  comments  follow,  showing  the  great  interest 
manifested  in  the  play  and  the  belief  in  the  highest 
seriousness  of  its  purpose: 

There  is  no  uncleanness  in  facts.  The  uncleanness  is  in 
the  glamour,  in  the  secret  imagination.  It  is  in  hints,  half- 
truths,  and  suggestions  the  threat  to  life  lies. 

This  play  puts  the  horrible  truth  in  so  living  a  way,  with 
Buch  clean,  artistic  force,  that  the  mind  is  impressed  as  it 
could  possibly  be  imprassed  in  no  other  manner. 

Best  of  all,  it  is  the  physician  who  dominates  the  action. 
There  is  no  sentimentalizing.  There  is  no  weak  and  morbid 
handling  of  the  theme.  The  doctor  appears  in  his  ideal 
function,  as  the  modern  high-priest  of  truth.  Around  him 
writhe  the  victims  of  ignorance  and  the  criminals  of  conven 
tional  cruelty.  Kind,  stern,  high-minded,  clear-headed,  yet 
human-hearted,  he  towers  over  all,  as  the  master. 

This  is  as  it  should  be.  The  man  to  say  the  word  to  save 
the  world  of  ignorant  wretches,  cursed  by  the  clouds  and 
darkness  a  mistaken  modesty  has  thrown  around  a  life-and- 
death  instinct,  is  the  physician. 

The  only  question  is  this:  Is  this  play  decent?  My  answer 
is  that  it  is  the  decentest  play  that  has  been  in  New  York  for 
a  year.  It  is  so  decent  that  it  is  religious. 

— Hearst's  Magazine. 

The  play  is,  above  all,  a  powerful  plea  for  the  tearing  away 
of  the  veil  of  mystery  that  has  so  universally  shrouded  this 
subject  of  the  penalty  of  sexual  immorality.  It  is  a  plea  for 
light  on  this  hidden  danger,  that  fathers  and  mothers,  young 


PRESS  COMMENTS  11 

men  and  young  women,  may  know  the  terrible  price  that 
must  be  paid,  not  only  by  the  generation  that  violates  the 
law,  but  by  the  generations  to  come.  It  is  a  serious  question 
just  how  the  education  of  men  and  women,  especially  young 
men  and  young  women,  in  the  vital  matters  of  sex  relationship 
should  be  carried  on.  One  thing  is  sure,  however.  The 
worst  possible  way  is  the  one  which  has  so  often  been  followed 
in  the  past — not  to  carry  it  on  at  all  but  to  ignore  it. 

— The  Outlook. 

It  (Damaged  Goods)  is,  of  course,  a  masterpiece  of  "thesis 
drama," — an  argument,  dogmatic,  insistent,  inescapable, 
cumulative,  between  science  and  common  sense,  on  one  side, 
and  love,  of  various  types,  on  the  other.  It  is  what  Mr. 
Bernard  Shaw  has  called  a  "drama  of  discussion";  it  has  the 
splendid  movement  of  the  best  Shaw  plays,  unrelieved — and 
undiluted — by  Shavian  paradox,  wit,  and  irony.  We  imagine 
that  many  in  the  audiences  at  the  Fulton  Theater  were 
astonished  at  the  play's  showing  of  sheer  strength  as  acted 
drama.  Possibly  it  might  not  interest  the  general  public; 
probably  it  would  be  inadvisable  to  present  it  to  them. 
But  no  thinking  person,  with  the  most  casual  interest  in 
current  social  evils,  could  listen  to  the  version  of  Richard 
Bennett,  Wilton  Lackaye,  and  their  associates,  without  being 
gripped  by  the  power  of  Brieux's  message.  — The  Dial. 

It  is  a  wonder  that  the  world  has  been  so  long  in  getting 
hold  of  this  play,  which  is  one  of  France's  most  valuable 
contributions  to  the  drama.  Its  history  is  interesting. 
Brieux  wrote  it  over  ten  years  ago.  Antoine  produced  it  at 
his  theater  and  Paris  immediately  censored  it,  but  soon 
thought  better  of  it  and  removed  the  ban.  During  the 
summer  of  1910  it  was  played  in  Brussels  before  crowded 
houses,  for  then  the  city  was  thronged  with  visitors  to  the 
exposition.  Finally  New  York  got  it  last  spring  and  eugenic 
enthusiasts  and  doctors  everywhere  have  welcomed  it. 

— The  Independent. 


A  Letter  to  Mr.  Bennett  from  Dr.  HillU,    Pastor   of   Plymouth 
Church,  Brooklyn. 

23  Monroe  Street, 
Bklyn.  August  1,  1913. 
Br.  Richard  Bennett, 

New  York  City,  H.  Y. 
My  Dear  Mr.  Bennett: 

During  the  pact  twenty-one  years  since  I  en 
tered  public  life,  I  have  experienced  many  exciting 
hours  under  the  influence  of  reformer,  orator  and 
actor,  but,  in  this  mood  of  retrospection,  I  do  not 
know  that  I  have  ever  passed  through  a  more  thrill 
ing,  terrible,  and  yet  hopeful  experience  than  last 
evening,  while  I  listened  to  your  interpretation  of 
Eugene  Brieux'  "Damaged  Goods.* 

Z  have  been  following  your  wort  wita  ever  deep* 
ening  interest*  It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  you 
have  changed  the  thinking  of  the  people  of  our  coun 
try  as  to  the  social  evil.  At  last,  thank  God,  this 
conspiracy  of  silence  is  ended.  Mo  young  man  who 
sees  •Damaged  Goods"  will  ever  be  the  sane  again.  If 
I  wanted  to  build  around  an  irnvosnt  boy  buttresses 
of  fire  and  granite,  and  lend  hia  triple  armour 
against  temptation  and  the  assaults  of  evjfl,  I  would 
put  him  for  one  evening  under  your  influence.  That 
which  the  teacher,  the  preacher  and  the  parent  have 
failed  to  accomplish  it  has  been  given  to  you  to 
achieve.  You  have  done  a  work  for  which  your  genera* 
tion  owes  you  an  immeasurable  debt  of  gratitude. 

I  shall  be  delighted  to  have  you  use  my  Study 
of  Social  Diseases  and  Heredity  la  connection  with 
your  great  reform. 

With  all  good  wishes,  I  am,  my  dear  Mr.  Bennett, 
Faithfully  yours, 


CHAPTER  I 

IT  was  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
when  George  Dupont  closed  the  door 
and  came  down  the  steps  to  the  street. 
The  first  faint  streaks  of  dawn  were  in  the 
sky,  and  he  noticed  this  with  annoyance, 
because  he  knew  that  his  hair  was  in  dis 
array  and  his  whole  aspect  disorderly; 
yet  he  dared  not  take  a  cab,  because  he 
feared  to  attract  attention  at  home. 
When  he  reached  the  sidewalk,  he  glanced 
about  him  to  make  sure  that  no  one  had 
seen  him  leave  the  house,  then  started 
down  the  street,  his  eyes  upon  the  sidewalk 
before  him. 

George  had  the  feeling  of  the  morning 
after.  There  are  few  men  in  this  world 
of  abundant  sin  who  will  not  know  what 
the  phrase  means.  The  fumes  of  the 
night  had  evaporated;  he  was  quite 
sober  now,  quite  free  from  excitement. 

(13) 


14  DAMAGED   GOODS 

He  saw  what  he  had  done,  and  it  seemed 
to  him  something  black  and  disgusting. 

Never  had  a  walk  seemed  longer  than 
the  few  blocks  which  he  had  to  traverse 
to  reach  his  home.  He  must  get  there 
before  the  maid  was  up,  before  the  baker's 
boy  called  with  the  rolls;  otherwise,  what 
explanation  could  he  give? — he  who  had 
always  been  such  a  moral  man,  who  had 
been  pointed  out  by  mothers  as  an  example 
to  their  sons. 

George  thought  of  his  own  mother,  and 
what  she  would  think  if  she  could  know 
about  his  night's  adventure.  He  thought 
again  and  again,  with  a  pang  of  anguish, 
of  Henriette.  Could  it  be  possible  that  a 
man  who  was  engaged,  whose  marriage 
contract  had  actually  been  signed,  who  was 
soon  to  possess  the  love  of  a  beautiful  and 
noble  girl — that  such  a  man  could  have  been 
weak  enough  and  base  enough  to  let  him 
self  be  trapped  into  such  a  low  action? 

He  went  back  over  the  whole  series 
of  events,  shuddering  at  them,  trying  to 
realize  how  they  had  happened,  trying  to 
excuse  himself  for  them.  He  had  not 


DAMAGED   GOODS  15 

intended  such  a  culmination;  he  had  never 
meant  to  do  such  a  thing  in  his  life.  He 
had  not  thought  of  any  harm  when  he 
had  accepted  the  invitation  to  the  supper- 
party  with  his  old  companions  from  the 
law  school.  Of  course,  he  had  known 
that  several  of  these  chums  led  "fast" 
lives — but,  then,  surely  a  fellow  could  go 
to  a  friend's  rooms  for  a  lark  without 
harm! 

He  remembered  the  girl  who  had  sat 
by  his  side  at  the  table.  She  had  come 
with  a  friend  who  was  a  married  woman, 
and  so  he  had  assumed  that  she  was  all 
right.  George  remembered  how  embar 
rassed  he  had  been  when  first  he  had 
noticed  her  glances  at  him.  But  then  the 
wine  had  begun  to  go  to  his  head — he  was 
one  of  those  unfortunate  wretches  who 
cannot  drink  wine  at  all.  He  had  offered 
to  take  the  girl  home  in  a  cab,  and  on  the 
way  he  had  lost  his  head. 

Oh!  what  a  wretched  thing  it  was.  He 
could  hardly  believe  that  it  was  he  who 
had  spoken  those  frenzied  words;  and 
yet  he  must  have  spoken  them,  because 


16  DAMAGED   GOODS 

he  remembered  them.  He  remembered 
that  it  had  taken  a  long  time  to  persuade 
her.  He  had  had  to  promise  her  a  ring 
like  the  one  her  married  friend  wore. 
Before  they  entered  her  home  she  had 
made  him  take  off  his  shoes,  so  that  the 
porter  might  not  hear  them.  This  had 
struck  George  particularly,  because,  even 
flushed  with  excitement  as  he  was,  he 
had  not  forgotten  the  warnings  his  father 
had  given  him  as  to  the  dangers  of  contact 
with  strange  women.  He  had  thought  to 
himself,  "This  girl  must  be  safe.  It  is 
probably  the  first  time  she  has  ever  done 
such  a  thing." 

But  now  George  could  get  but  little 
consolation  out  of  that  idea.  He  was  suf 
fering  intensely — the  emotion  described  by 
the  poet  in  the  bitter  words  about  "Time's 
moving  finger  having  writ."  His  mind, 
seeking  some  explanation,  some  justifica 
tion,  went  back  to  the  events  before  that 
night.  With  a  sudden  pang  of  yearning, 
he  thought  of  Lizette.  She  was  a  decent 
girl,  and  had  kept  him  decent,  and  he  was 
lonely  without  her.  He  had  been  so  afraid 


DAMAGED   GOODS  17 

of  being  found  out  that  he  had  given  her  up 
when  he  became  engaged;  but  now  for  a 
while  he  felt  that  he  would  have  to  break 
his  resolution,  and  pay  his  regular  Sunday 
visit  to  the  little  flat  in  the  working-class 
portion  of  Paris. 

It  was  while  George  was  fitting  himself 
for  the  same  career  as  his  father — that  of 
notary —  that  he  had  made  the  acquaintance 
of  the  young  working  girl.  It  may  not  be 
easy  to  believe,  but  Lizette  had  really  been 
a  decent  girl.  She  had  a  family  to  take 
care  of,  and  was  in  need.  There  was  a 
grandmother  in  poor  health,  a  father  not 
much  better,  and  three  little  brothers; 
so  Lizette  did  not  very  long  resist  George 
Dupont,  and  he  felt  quite  virtuous  in  giving 
her  sufficient  money  to  take  care  of  these 
unfortunate  people.  Among  people  of  his 
class  it'  was  considered  proper  to  take  such 
things  if  one  paid  for  them. 

All  the  family  of  this  working  girl  were 
grateful  to  him.  They  adored  him,  and 
they  called  him  Uncle  Raoul  (for  of  course 
he  had  not  been  so  foolish  as  to  give  them 
his  true  name). 


18  DAMAGED   GOODS 

Since  George  was  paying  for  Lizette, 
he  felt  he  had  the  right  to  control  her 
life.  He  gave  her  fair  warning  concerning 
his  attitude.  If  she  deceived  him  he 
would  leave  her  immediately.  He  told 
this  to  her  relatives  also,  and  so  he  had 
them  all  watching  her.  She  was  never 
trusted  out  alone.  Every  Sunday  George 
went  to  spend  the  day  with  his  little 
"family,"  so  that  his  coming  became  almost 
a  matter  of  tradition.  He  interested  her 
in  church  affairs — mass  and  vespers  were 
her  regular  occasions  for  excursions. 
George  rented  two  seats,  and  the  grand 
mother  went  with  her  to  the  services.  The 
simple  people  were  proud  to  see  their  name 
engraved  upon  the  brass  plate  of  the  pew. 

The  reason  for  all  these  precautions 
was  George's  terror  of  disease.  He  had 
been  warned  by  his  father  as  to  the  dangers 
which  young  men  encounter  in  their  amours. 
And  these  lessons  had  sunk  deep  into 
George's  heart;  he  had  made  up  his  mind 
that  whatever  his  friends,  might  do,  he, 
for  one,  would  protect  himself. 

That  did  not  mean,  of  course,  that  he 


DAMAGED  GOODS  19 

intended  to  live  a  virtuous  life;  such 
was  not  the  custom  among  young  men 
of  his  class,  nor  had  it  probably  ever 
occurred  to  his  father  that  it  was  possible 
for  a  young  man  to  do  such  a  thing.  The 
French  have  a  phrase,  "1'homine  moyen 
sensuel" — the  average  sensual  man.  And 
George  was  such  a  man.  He  had  no  noble 
idealisms,  no  particular  reverence  for 
women.  The  basis  of  his  attitude  was  a 
purely  selfish  one;  he  wanted  to  enjoy 
himself,  and  at  the  same  time  to  keep  out 
of  trouble. 

He  did  not  find  any  happiness  in  the 
renunciation  which  he  imposed  upon  him 
self;  he  had  no  religious  ideas  about  it. 
On  the  contrary,  he  suffered  keenly,  and 
was  bitter  because  he  had  no  share  in 
the  amusements  of  his  friends.  He  stuck 
to  his  work  and  forced  himself  to  keep 
regular  hours,  preparing  for  his  law  exami 
nations.  But  all  the  time  he  was  longing 
for  adventures.  And,  of  course,  this  could 
not  go  on  forever,  for  the  motive  of  fear 
alone  is  not  sufficient  to  subdue  the  sexual 
urge  in  a  full-blooded  young  man. 


20  DAMAGED   GOODS 

The  affair  with  Lizette  might  have  con 
tinued  much  longer  had  it  not  been  for  the 
fact  that  his  father  died.  He  died  quite 
suddenly,  while  George  was  away  on  a  trip. 
The  son  came  back  to  console  his  broken 
hearted  mother,  and  in  the  two  weeks 
which  they  spent  in  the  country  together 
the  mother  broached  a  plan  to  him.  The 
last  wish  of  the  dying  man  had  been  that 
his  son  should  be  fixed  in  life.  In  the  midst 
of  his  intense  suffering  he  had  been  able 
to  think  about  the  matter,  and  had  named 
the  girl  whom  he  wished  George  to  marry. 
Naturally,  George  waited  with  some  interest 
to  learn  who  this  might  be.  He  was 
surprised  when  his  mother  told  him  that 
it  was  his  cousin,  Henriette  Loches. 

He  could  not  keep  his  emotion  from 
revealing  itself  in  his  face.  "It  doesn't 
please  you?"  asked  his  mother,  with  a 
tone  of  disappointment. 

"Why  no,  mother,"  he  answered.  "It's 
not  that.  It  just  surprises  me." 

"But  why?"  asked  the  mother.  "Hen 
riette  is  a  lovely  girl  and  a  good  girl." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  George;   "but  then 


DAMAGED   GOODS  21 

she  is  my  cousin,  and—  He  blushed  a 
little  with  embarrassment.  "I  had  never 
thought  of  her  in  that  way." 

Madame  Dupont  laid  her  hand  upon  her 
son's.  "Yes,  George,"  she  said,  tenderly. 
"I  know.  You  are  such  a  good  boy." 

Now,  of  course,  George  did  not  feel 
that  he  was  quite  such  a  good  boy;  but 
his  mother  was  a  deeply  religious  woman, 
who  had  no  idea  of  the  truth  about  the 
majority  of  men.  She  would  never  have 
got  over  the  shock  if  he  had  told  her  about 
himself,  and  so  he  had  to  pretend  to  be 
just  what  she  thought  him. 

"Tell  me,"  she  continued,  after  a  pause, 
"have  you  never  felt  the  least  bit  in  love?" 

"Why  no — I  don't  think  so,"  George 
stammered,  becoming  conscious  of  a  sudden 
rise  of  temperature  in  his  cheeks. 

"Because,"  said  his  mother,  "it  is  really 
time  that  you  were  settled  in  life.  Your 
father  said  that  we  should  have  seen  to  it 
before,  and  now  it  is  my  duty  to  see  to  it. 
It  is  not  good  for  you  to  live  alone  so  long." 

"But,  mother,  I  have  you"  said  George, 
generously. 


22  DAMAGED   GOODS 

"Some  day  the  Lord  may  take  me 
away,"  was  the  reply.  "I  am  getting  old. 
And,  George,  dear — "  Here  suddenly 
her  voice  began  to  tremble  with  feeling— 
"I  would  like  to  see  my  baby  grand 
children  before  I  go.  You  cannot  imagine 
what  it  would  mean  to  me." 

Madame  Dupont  saw  how  much  this 
subject  distressed  her  son,  so  she  went  on 
to  the  more  worldly  aspects  of  the  mat 
ter.  Henriette's  father  was  well-to-do, 
and  he  would  give  her  a  good  dowry. 
She  was  a  charming  and  accomplished 
girl.  Everybody  would  consider  him  most 
fortunate  if  the  match  could  be  arranged. 
Also,  there  was  an  elderly  aunt  to  whom 
Madame  Dupont  had  spoken,  and  who 
was  much  taken  with  the  idea.  She  owned 
a  great  deal  of  property  and  would  surely 
help  the  young  couple. 

George  did  not  see  just  how  he  could 
object  to  this  proposition,  even  if  he  had 
wanted  to.  What  reason  could  he  give 
for  such  a  course?  He  could  not  explain 
that  he  already  had  a  family — with  step 
children,  so  to  speak,  who  adored  him. 


DAMAGED  GOODS  23 

And  what  could  he  say  to  his  mother's 
obsession,  to  which  she  came  back  again 
and  again — her  longing  to  see  her  grand 
children  before  she  died?  Madame  Dupont 
waited  only  long  enough  for  George  to 
stammer  out  a  few  protestations,  and  then 
in  the  next  breath  to  take  them  back; 
after  which  she  proceeded  to  go  ahead  with 
the  match.  The  family  lawyers  conferred 
together,  and  the  terms  of  the  settlement 
were  worked  out  and  agreed  upon.  It 
happened  that  immediately  afterwards 
George  learned  of  an  opportunity  to  pur 
chase  the  practice  of  a  notary,  who  was 
ready  to  retire  from  business  in  two  months' 
time.  Henriette's  father  consented  to 
advance  a  portion  of  her  dowry  for  this 
purpose. 

Thus  George  was  safely  started  upon 
the  same  career  as  his  father,  and  this 
was  to  him  a  source  of  satisfaction  which 
he  did  not  attempt  to  deny,  either  to  him 
self  or  to  any  one  else.  George  was  a 
cautious  young  man,  who  came  of  a  frugal 
and  saving  stock.  He  had  always  been 
taught  that  it  was  his  primary  duty  to 


24  DAMAGED   GOODS 

make  certain  of  a  reasonable  amount  of 
comfort.  From  his  earliest  days,  he  had 
been  taught  to  regard  material  success 
as  the  greatest  goal  in  life,  and  he  would 
never  have  dreamed  of  engaging  himself 
to  a  girl  without  money.  But  when  he 
had  the  good  fortune  to  meet  one  who 
possessed  desirable  personal  qualities  in 
addition  to  money,  he  was  not  in  the  least 
barred  from  appreciating  those  qualities. 
They  were,  so  to  speak,  the  sauce  which 
went  with  the  meat,  and  it  seemed  to  him 
that  in  this  case  the  sauce  was  of  the  very 
best. 

George — a  big  fellow  of  twenty-six,  with 
large,  round  eyes  and  a  good-natured 
countenance — was  full  blooded,  well  fed, 
with  a  hearty  laugh  which  spoke  of  un 
impaired  contentment,  a  soul  untroubled 
in  its  deeps.  He  seemed  to  himself  the 
luckiest  fellow  in  the  whole  round  world; 
he  could  not  think  what  he  had  done  to 
deserve  the  good  fortune  of  possessing  such 
a  girl  as  Henriette.  He  was  ordinarily 
of  a  somewhat  sentimental  turn — easily 
influenced  by  women  and  sensitive  to  their 


DAMAGED   GOODS  25 

charms.  Moreover,  his  relationship  with 
Lizette  had  softened  him.  He  had  learned 
to  love  the  young  working  girl,  and  now 
Henriette,  it  seemed,  was  to  reap  the 
benefit  of  his  experience  with  her. 

In  fact,  he  found  himself  always  with 
memories  of  Lizette  in  his  relationships 
with  the  girl  who  was  to  be  his  wife. 
When  the  engagement  was  announced, 
and  he  claimed  his  first  kiss  from  his 
bride-to-be,  as  he  placed  a  ring  upon 
her  finger,  he  remembered  the  first  time 
he  had  kissed  Lizette,  and  a  double  blush 
suffused  his  round  countenance.  When 
he  walked  arm  and  arm  with  Henriette 
in  the  garden  he  remembered  how  he  had 
walked  just  so  with  the  other  girl,  and  he 
was  interested  to  compare  the  words  of 
the  two.  He  remembered  what  a  good 
time  he  had  had  when  he  had  taken 
Lizette  and  her  little  family  for  a  picnic 
upon  one  of  the  excursion  steamers  which 
run  down  the  River  Seine.  Immediately 
he  decided  that  he  would  like  to  take 
Henriette  on  such  a  picnic,  and  he  per 
suaded  an  aunt  of  Henrietta's  to  go  with 


26  DAMAGED  GOODS 

her  as  chaperon.  George  took  his  bride- 
to-be  to  the  same  little  inn  where  he  had 
had  lunch  before. 

Thus  he  was  always  haunted  by  memo 
ries,  some  of  which  made  him  cheerful 
and  some  of  which  made  him  mildly  sad. 
He  soon  got  used  to  the  idea,  and  did  not 
find  it  awkward,  except  when  he  had  to 
suppress  the  impulse  to  tell  Henriette 
something  which  Lizette  had  said,  or  some 
funny  incident  which  had  happened  in  the 
home  of  the  little  family.  Sometimes  he 
found  himself  thinking  that  it  was  a  shame 
to  have  to  suppress  these  impulses.  There 
must  be  something  wrong,  he  thought, 
with  a  social  system  which  made  it  necessary 
for  him  to  hide  a  thing  which  was  so 
obvious  and  so  sensible.  Here  he  was, 
a  man  twenty-six  years  of  age;  he  could 
not  have  afforded  to  marry  earlier,  nor 
could  he,  as  he  thought,  have  been  expected 
to  lead  a  continent  life.  And  he  had 
really  loved  Lizette;  she  was  really  a 
good  girl.  Yet,  if  Henriette  had  got  any 
idea  of  it,  she  would  have  been  horrified 
and  indignant — she  might  even  have  broken 
off  the  engagement. 


DAMAGED  GOODS  27 

And  then,  too,  there  was  Henriette's 
father,  a  personage  of  great  dignity  and 
importance.  M.  Loches  was  a  deputy  of 
the  French  Parliament,  from  a  district  in 
the  provinces.  He  was  a  man  of  upright 
life,  and  a  man  who  made  a  great  deal 
of  that  upright  life — keeping  it  on  a 
pedestal  where  everyone  might  observe 
it.  It  was  impossible  to  imagine  M. 
Loches  in  an  undignified  or  compromising 
situation — such  as  the  younger  man  found 
himself  facing  in  the  matter  of  Lizette. 

The  more  he  thought  about  it  the  more 
nervous  and  anxious  George  became.  Then 
it  was  that  he  decided  it  would  be  necessary 
for  him  to  break  with  the  girl,  and  be 
"good"  until  the  time  of  his  marriage. 
Dear  little  soft-eyed  Lizette — he  did  not 
dare  to  face  her  personally;  he  could 
never  bear  to  say  good-by,  he  felt.  Instead, 
he  went  to  the  father,  who  as  a  man  could 
be  expected  to  understand  the  situation. 
George  was  embarrassed  and  not  a  little 
nervous  about  it;  for  although  he  had 
never  misrepresented  his  attitude  to  the 
family,  one  could  never  feel  entirely  free 


28  DAMAGED   GOODS 

from  the  possibility  of  blackmail  in  such 
cases.  However,  Lizette's  father  behaved 
decently,  and  was  duly  grateful  for  the 
moderate  sum  of  money  which  George 
handed  him  hi  parting.  He  promised  to 
break  the  news  gently  to  Lizette,  and  George 
went  away  with  his  mind  made  up  that  he 
would  never  see  her  again. 

This  resolution  he  kept,  and  he  con 
sidered  himself  very  virtuous  hi  doing  it. 
But  the  truth  was  that  he  had  grown  used 
to  intimacy  with  a  woman,  and  was  restless 
without  it.  And  that,  he  told  himself, 
was  why  he  had  yielded  to  the  shameful 
temptation  the  night  of  that  fatal  supper 
party. 

He  paid  for  the  misadventure  liberally 
in  remorse.  He  felt  that  he  had  been  a 
wretch,  that  he  had  disgraced  himself 
forever,  that  he  had  proved  himself  un 
worthy  of  the  pure  girl  he  was  to  marry. 
So  keen  was  his  feeling  that  it  was  several 
days  before  he  could  bring  himself  to  see 
Henriette  again;  and  when  he  went,  it 
was  with  a  mind  filled  with  a  brand-new 
set  of  resolutions.  It  was  the  last  time 


DAMAGED  GOODS  29 

that  he  would  ever  fall  into  error.  He 
would  be  a  new  man  from  then  on.  He 
thanked  God  that  there  was  no  chance  of 
his  sin  being  known,  that  he  might  have 
an  opportunity  to  prove  his  new  determina 
tion. 

So  intense  were  his  feelings  that  he 
could  not  help  betraying  a  part  of  them 
to  Henriette.  They  sat  in  the  garden 
one  soft  summer  evening,  with  Henriette's 
mother  occupied  with  her  crocheting  at 
a  decorous  distance.  George,  in  reverent 
and  humble  mood,  began  to  drop  vague 
hints  that  he  was  really  unworthy  of  his 
bride-to-be.  He  said  that  he  had  not 
always  been  as  good  as  he  should  have 
been;  he  said  that  her  purity  and  sweetness 
had  awakened  in  him  new  ideals;  so  that 
he  felt  his  old  life  had  been  full  of  blunders. 
Henriette,  of  course,  had  but  the  vaguest 
of  ideas  as  to  what  the  blunders  of  a  tender 
and  generous  young  man  like  George  might 
be.  So  she  only  loved  him  the  more  for 
his  humility,  and  was  flattered  to  have 
such  a  fine  effect  upon  him,  to  awaken  in 
him  such  moods  of  exaltation.  When  he 


30  DAMAGED   GOODS 

told  her  that  all  men  were  bad,  and  that 
no  man  was  worthy  of  such  a  beautiful 
love,  she  was  quite  ravished,  and  wiped 
away  tears  from  her  eyes. 

It  would  have  been  a  shame  to  spoil 
such  a  heavenly  mood  by  telling  the  real 
truth.  Instead,  George  contented  him 
self  with  telling  of  the  new  resolutions 
he  had  formed.  After  all,  they  were  the 
things  which  really  mattered;  for  Henriette 
was  going  to  live  with  his  future,  not  with 
his  past. 

It  seemed  to  George  a  most  wonderful 
thing,  this  innocence  of  a  young  girl, 
which  enabled  her  to  move  through  a 
world  of  wickedness  with  unpolluted  mind. 
It  was  a  touching  thing;  and  also,  as  a 
prudent  young  man  could  not  help  realizing, 
a  most  convenient  thing.  He  realized  the 
importance  of  preserving  it,  and  thought 
that  if  he  ever  had  a  daughter,  he  would 
protect  her  as  rigidly  as  Henriette  had  been 
protected.  He  made  haste  to  shy  off  from 
the  subject  of  his  "badness"  and  to  turn 
the  conversation  with  what  seemed  a  clever 
jest. 


DAMAGED  GOODS  31 

"If  I  am  going  to  be  so  good,"  he  said, 
"don't  forget  that  you  will  have  to  be 
good  also!" 

"I  will  try,"  said  Henriette,  who  was 
still  serious. 

"You  will  have  to  try  hard,"  he  per 
sisted.  "You  will  find  that  you  have  a 
very  jealous  husband." 

"Will  I?"  said  Henriette,  beaming  with 
happiness — for  when  a  woman  is  very 
much  in  love  she  doesn't  in  the  least 
object  to  the  man's  being  jealous. 

"Yes,  indeed,"  smiled  George.  "HI 
always  be  watching  you." 

"Watching  me?"  echoed  the  girl  with 
a  surprised  look. 

And  immediately  he  felt  ashamed  of 
himself  for  his  jest.  There  could  be  no 
need  to  watch  Henriette,  and  it  was  bad 
taste  even  to  joke  about  it  at  such  a  time. 
That  was  one  of  the  ideas  which  he  had 
brought  with  him  from  his  world  of  evil. 

The  truth  was,  however,  that  George 
would  always  be  a  suspicious  husband; 
nothing  could  ever  change  that  fact,  for 
there  was  something  in  his  own  con- 


32  DAMAGED   GOODS 

science  which  he  could  not  get  out,  and 
which  would  make  it  impossible  for  him 
to  be  at  ease  as  a  married  man.  It  was 
the  memory  of  something  which  had  hap 
pened  earlier  in  his  life,  before  he  met 
Lizette.  There  had  been  one  earlier  expe^ 
rience,  with  the  wife  of  his  dearest  friend. 
She  had  been  much  younger  than  her 
husband,  and  had  betrayed  an  interest 
in  George,  who  had  yielded  to  the  tempta 
tion.  For  several  years  the  intrigue  con 
tinued,  and  George  considered  it  a  good 
solution  of  a  young  man's  problem.  There 
had  been  no  danger  of  contamination, 
for  he  knew  that  his  friend  was  a  man  of 
pure  and  rigid  morals,  a  jealous  man  who 
watched  his  wife,  and  did  not  permit  her 
to  contract  those  new  relations  which  are 
always  dangerous.  As  for  George,  he 
helped  in  this  worthy  work,  keeping  the 
woman  in  terror  of  some  disease.  He  told 
her  that  almost  all  men  were  infected,  for 
he  hoped  by  this  means  to  keep  her  from 
deceiving  him. 

I  am  aware  that  this  may  seem  a  dreadful 
story.     As  I  do  not  want  anyone  to  think 


DAMAGED  GOODS  33 

too  ill  of  George  Dupont,  I  ought,  perhaps, 
to  point  out  that  people  feel  differently 
about  these  matters  in  France.  In  judging 
the  unfortunate  young  man,  we  must 
judge  him  by  the  customs  of  his  own 
country,  and  not  by  ours.  In  France, 
they  are  accustomed  to  what  is  called  the 
manage  de  convenance.  The  young  girl 
is  not  permitted  to  go  about  and  make 
her  own  friends  and  decide  which  one  of 
them  she  prefers  for  her  husband;  on  the 
contrary,  she  is  strictly  guarded,  her  train 
ing  often  is  of  a  religious  nature,  and  her 
marriage  is  a  matter  of  business,  to  be 
considered  and  decided  by  her  parents 
and  those  of  the  young  man.  Now, 
whatever  we  may  think  right,  it  is  hu 
manly  certain  that  where  marriages  are 
made  in  that  way,  the  need  of  men  and 
women  for  sympathy  and  for  passionate 
interest  will  often  lead  to  the  forming  of 
irregular  relationships  after  marriage.  It 
is  not  possible  to  present  statistics  as  to 
the  number  of  such  irregular  relationships  in 
Parisian  society;  but  in  the  books  which 
he  read  and  in  the  plays  which  he  saw, 


34  DAMAGED  GOODS 

George  found  everything  to  encourage 
him  to  think  that  it  was  a  romantic  and 
delightful  thing  to  keep  up  a  secret  intrigue 
with  the  wife  of  his  best  friend. 

It  should  also,  perhaps,  be  pointed  out 
that  we  are  here  telling  the  truth,  and 
the  whole  truth,  about  George  Dupont; 
and  that  it  is  not  customary  to  tell  this 
about  men,  either  in  real  life  or  in  novels. 
There  is  a  great  deal  of  concealment 
in  the  world  about  matters  of  sex;  and 
in  such  matters  the  truth-telling  man  is 
apt  to  suffer  in  reputation  in  comparison 
with  the  truth-concealing  one. 

Nor  had  George  really  been  altogether 
callous  about  the  thing.  It  had  happened 
that  his  best  friend  had  died  in  his  arms; 
and  this  had  so  affected  the  guilty  pair 
that  they  had  felt  their  relationship  was 
no  longer  possible.  She  had  withdrawn 
to  nurse  her  grief  alone,  and  George  had 
been  so  deeply  affected  that  he  had  avoided 
affairs  and  entanglements  with  women 
until  his  meeting  with  Lizette. 

All  this  was  now  in  the  far  distant 
past,  but  it  had  made  a  deeper  impres- 


DAMAGED  GOODS  35 

sion  upon  George  than  he  perhaps  realized, 
and  it  was  now  working  in  his  mind  and 
marring  his  happiness.  Here  was  a  girl 
who  loved  him  with  a  noble  and  unselfish 
and  whole-hearted  love — and  yet  he  would 
never  be  able  to  trust  her  as  she  deserved, 
but  would  always  have  suspicions  lurking 
in  the  back  of  his  mind.  He  would  be 
unable  to  have  his  friends  intimate  in  his 
home,  because  of  the  memory  of  what  he 
had  once  done  to  a  friend.  It  was  a  subtle 
kind  of  punishment.  But  so  it  is  that 
Nature  often  finds  ways  of  punishing  us, 
without  our  even  being  aware  of  it. 

That  was  all  for  the  future,  however. 
At  present,  George  was  happy.  He  put 
his  black  sin  behind  him,  feeling  that  he 
had  obtained  absolution  by  his  confession 
to  Henriette.  Day  by  day,  as  he  realized 
his  good  fortune,  his  round  face  beamed 
with  more  and  yet  more  joy. 

He  went  for  a  little  trip  to  Henriette's 
home  hi  the  country.  It  was  a  simple 
village,  and  they  took  walks  in  the  country, 
and  stopped  to  refresh  themselves  at  a 
farmhouse  occupied  by  one  of  M.  Loches' 


36  DAMAGED  GOODS 

tenants.  Here  was  a  rosy  and  buxom 
peasant  woman,  with  a  nursing  child  in 
her  arms.  She  was  destined  a  couple  of 
years  later  to  be  the  foster-mother  of 
Henriette's  little  girl  and  to  play  an  impor 
tant  part  in  her  life.  But  the  pair  had  no 
idea  of  that  at  present.  They  simply  saw 
a  proud  and  happy  mother,  and  Henriette 
played  with  the  baby,  giving  vent  to 
childish  delight.  Then  suddenly  she  looked 
up  and  saw  that  George  was  watching  her, 
and  as  she  read  his  thoughts  a  beautiful 
blush  suffused  her  cheeks. 

As  for  George,  he  turned  away  and 
went  out  under  the  blue  sky  in  a  kind  of 
ecstasy.  Life  seemed  very  wonderful  to 
him  just  then;  he  had  found  its  supreme 
happiness,  which  was  love.  He  was  really 
getting  quite  mad  about  Henriette,  he 
told  himself.  He  could  hardly  believe 
that  the  day  was  coming  when  he  would 

be  able  to  clasp  her  in  his  arms. 

****** 

But  in  the  blue  sky  of  George's  happi 
ness  there  was  one  little  cloud  of  storm. 
As  often  happens  with  storm-clouds,  it  was  A 


DAMAGED  GOODS  37 

so  small  that  at  first  he  paid  no  attention 
to  it  at  all. 

He  noted  upon  his  body  one  day  a  tiny 
ulcer.  At  first  he  treated  it  with  salve  pur 
chased  from  an  apothecary.  Then  after 
a  week  or  two,  when  this  had  no  effect,  he 
began  to  feel  uncomfortable.  He  remem 
bered  suddenly  something  he  had  heard 
about  the  symptoms  of  an  unmentionable, 
dreadful  disease,  and  a  vague  terror  took 
possession  of  him. 

For  days  he  tried  to  put  it  to  one  side. 
The  idea  was  nonsense,  it  was  absurd 
in  connection  with  a  woman  so  respecta 
ble!  But  the  thought  would  not  be  put 
away,  and  finally  he  went  to  a  school 
friend,  who  was  a  man  of  the  world,  and 
got  him  to  talk  on  the  subject.  Of 
course,  George  had  to  be  careful,  so  that 
his  friend  should  not  suspect  that  he  had 
any  special  purpose  in  mind. 

The  friend  was  willing  to  talk.  It  was 
a  vile  disease,  he  said;  but  one  was  fool 
ish  to  bother  about  it,  because  it  was  so 
rare.  There  were  other  diseases  which 
fellows  got,  which  nearly  every  fellow 


38  DAMAGED  GOODS 

had,  and  to  which  none  of  them  paid  any 
attention.  But  one  seldom  met  anyone 
who  had  the  red  plague  that  George  dreaded. 

"And  yet,"  he  added,  " according  to  the 
books,  it  isn't  so  uncommon.  I  suppose 
the  truth  is  that  people  hide  it.  A  chap 
naturally  wouldn't  tell,  when  he  knew  it 
would  damn  him  for  life." 

George  had  a  sick  sensation  inside  of 
him.  "Is  it  as  bad  as  that?"  he  asked. 

"Of  course,"  said  the  other.  "Should 
you  want  to  have  anything  to  do  with  a 
person  who  had  it?  Should  you  be  willing 
to  room  with  him  or  travel  with  him? 
You  wouldn't  even  want  to  shake  hands 
with  him!" 

"No,  I  suppose  not,"  said  George,  feebly. 

"I  remember,"  continued  the  other, 
"an  old  fellow  who  used  to  live  out  in  the 
country  near  me.  He  was  not  so  very 
old,  either,  but  he  looked  it.  He  had  to 
be  pushed  around  in  a  wheel-chair.  People 
said  he  had  locomotor  ataxia,  but  that 
really  meant  syphilis.  We  boys  used 
to  poke  all  kinds  of  fun  at  him  because 
one  windy  day  his  hat  and  his  wig  were 


DAMAGED   GOODS  39 

blown  off  together,  and  we  discovered 
that  he  was  as  bald  as  an  egg.  We  used 
to  make  jokes  about  his  automobile,  as 
we  called  it.  It  had  a  little  handle  in 
front,  instead  of  a  steering-wheel,  and  a 
man  behind  to  push,  instead  of  an  engine." 

"How  horrible!"  remarked  George  with 
genuine  feeling. 

"I  remember  the  poor  devil  had  a 
stroke  of  paralysis  soon  after,"  continued 
the  friend,  quite  carelessly.  "He  could 
not  steer  any  more,  and  also  he  lost  his 
voice.  When  you  met  him  he  would 
look  at  you  as  if  he  thought  he  was  talk 
ing,  but  all  he  could  say  was  'Ga-ga-gaV 

George  went  away  from  this  conversa 
tion  in  a  cold  sweat.  He  told  himself 
over  and  over  again  that  he  was  a  fool, 
but  still  he  could  not  get  the  hellish  idea 
out  of  his  mind.  He  found  himself  brood 
ing  over  it  all  day  and  lying  awake  at  night, 
haunted  by  images  of  himself  in  a  wheel 
chair,  and  without  any  hair  on  his  head. 
He  realized  that  the  sensible  thing  would 
be  for  him  to  go  to  a  doctor  and  make 
certain  about  his  condition;  but  he  could 


40  DAMAGED  GOODS 

not  bring  himself  to  face  the  ordeal — he 
was  ashamed  to  admit  to  a  doctor  that  he 
had  laid  himself  open  to  such  a  taint. 

He  began  to  lose  the  radiant  ex 
pression  from  his  round  and  rosy  face. 
He  had  less  appetite,  and  his  moods  of 
depression  became  so  frequent  that  he 
could  not  hide  them  even  from  Henriette. 
She  asked  him  once  or  twice  if  there  were 
not  something  the  matter  with  him,  and 
he  laughed — a  forced  and  hurried  laugh — 
and  told  her  that  he  had  sat  up  too  late 
the  night  before,  worrying  over  the  mat 
ter  of  his  examinations.  Oh,  what  a 
cruel  thing  it  was  that  a  man  who  stood 
in  the  very  gateway  of  such  a  garden  of 
delight  should  be  tormented  and  made 
miserable  by  this  loathsome  idea! 

The  disturbing  symptom  still  continued, 
and  so  at  last  George  purchased  a  medical 
book,  dealing  with  the  subject  of  the 
disease.  Then,  indeed,  he  opened  up  a 
chamber  of  horrors;  he  made  his  mind  an 
abiding  place  of  ghastly  images.  In  the 
book  there  were  pictures  of  things  so 
awful  that  he  turned  white,  and  trembled 


DAMAGED  GOODS  41 

like  a  leaf,  and  had  to  close  the  volume 
and  hide  it  in  the  bottom  of  his  trunk. 
But  he  could  not  banish  the  pictures  from 
his  mind.  Worst  of  all,  he  could  not  forget 
the  description  of  the  first  symptom  of 
the  disease,  which  seemed  to  correspond 
exactly  with  his  own.  So  at  last  he  made 
up  his  mind  he  must  ascertain  definitely 
the  truth  about  his  condition. 

He  began  to  think  over  plans  for  seeing 
a  doctor.  He  had  heard  somewhere  a 
story  about  a  young  fellow  who  had  fallen 
into  the  hands  of  a  quack,  and  been  ruined 
forever.  So  he  decided  that  he  would 
consult  only  the  best  authority. 

He  got  the  names  of  the  best-known 
works  on  the  subject  from  a  bookstore, 
and  found  that  the  author  of  one  of  these 
books  was  practicing  in  Paris  as  a  specialist. 
Two  or  three  days  elapsed  before  he 
was  able  to  get  up  the  courage  to  call  on 
this  doctor.  And  oh,  the  shame  and 
horror  of  sitting  in  his  waiting-room  with 
the  other  people,  none  of  whom  dared  to 
look  each  other  hi  the  eyes!  They  must 
all  be  afflicted,  George  thought,  and  he 


42  DAMAGED  GOODS 

glanced  at  them  furtively,  looking  for  the 
various  symptoms  of  which  he  had  read. 
Or  were  there,  perhaps,  some  like  himself — 
merely  victims  of  a  foolish  error,  coming 
to  have  the  hag  of  dread  pulled  from  off 
their  backs? 

And  then  suddenly,  while  he  was  specu 
lating,  there  stood  the  doctor,  signaling 
to  him.  His  turn  had  come! 


CHAPTER  II 

THE  doctor  was  a  man  about  forty 
years   of   age,   robust,   with   every 
appearance  of  a  strong  character. 
In  the  buttonhole  of  the  frock  coat  he  wore 
was  a  red  rosette,  the  decoration  of  some 
order.      Confused  and  nervous  as  George 
was,   he   got   a   vague   impression   of  the 
physician's  richly  furnished  office,  with  its 
bronzes,  marbles  and  tapestries. 

The  doctor  signaled  to  the  young  man 
to  be  seated  in  the  chair  before  his  desk. 
George  complied,  and  then,  as  he  wiped 
away  the  perspiration  from  his  forehead, 
stammered  out  a  few  words,  explaining  his 
errand.  Of  course,  he  said,  it  could  not 
be  true,  but  it  was  a  man's  duty  not  to 
take  any  chances  in  such  a  matter.  "I 
have  not  been  a  man  of  loose  life,"  he 
added;  "I  have  not  taken  so  many  chances 
as  other  men." 

(43) 


44  DAMAGED  GOODS 

The  doctor  cut  him  short  with  the  brief 
remark  that  one  chance  was  all  that  was 
necessary.  Instead  of  discussing  such  ques 
tions,  he  would  make  an  examination. 
"We  do  not  say  positively  in  these  cases 
until  we  have  made  a  blood  test.  That  is 
the  one  way  to  avoid  the  possibility  of 
mistake." 

A  drop  of  blood  was  squeezed  out  of 
George's  finger  on  to  a  little  glass  plate. 
The  doctor  retired  to  an  adjoining  room, 
and  the  victim  sat  alone  in  the  office,  deriv 
ing  no  enjoyment  from  the  works  of  art 
which  surrounded  him,  but  feeling  like  a 
prisoner  who  sits  in  the  dock  with  his  life 
at  stake  while  the  jury  deliberates. 

The  doctor  returned,  calm  and  impas 
sive,  and  seated  himself  in  his  office-chair. 

"Well,  doctor?"  asked  George.  He  was 
trembling  with  terror. 

"Well,"  was  the  reply,  "there  is  no 
doubt  whatever." 

George  wiped  his  forehead.  He  could 
not  credit  the  words.  "No  doubt  what 
ever?  In  what  sense?" 

"In  the  bad  sense,"  said  the  other. 


DAMAGED   GOODS  45 

He  began  to  write  a  prescription,  with 
out  seeming  to  notice  how  George  turned 
pale  with  terror.  "Come,"  he  said,  after 
a  silence,  "you  must  have  known  the  truth 
pretty  well." 

"No,  no,  sir!"  exclaimed  George. 

"Well,"  said  the  other,  "you  have 
syphilis." 

George  was  utterly  stunned.  "My 
God!"  he  exclaimed. 

The  doctor,  having  finished  his  pre 
scription,  looked  up  and  observed  his 
condition.  "Don't  trouble  yourself,  sir. 
Out  of  every  seven  men  you  meet  upon  the 
street,  in  society,  or  at  the  theater,  there 
is  at  least  one  who  has  been  in  your  condi 
tion.  One  out  of  seven — fifteen  per  cent!" 

George  was  staring  before  him.  He 
spoke  low,  as  if  to  himself.  "I  know  what 
I  am  going  to  do!" 

"And  I  know  also,"  said  the  doctor, 
with  a  smile.  "There  is  your  prescrip 
tion.  You  are  going  to  take  it  to  the  drug 
store  and  have  it  put  up." 

George  took  the  prescription,  mechani 
cally,  but  whispered,  "No,  sir." 


46  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"Yes,  sir,  you  are  going  to  do  as  every 
body  else  does." 

"No,  because  my  situation  is  not  that 
of  everybody  else.  I  know  what  I  am 
going  to  do." 

Said  the  doctor:  "Five  times  out  of 
ten,  hi  the  chair  where  you  are  sitting, 
people  talk  like  that,  perfectly  sincerely. 
Each  one  believes  himself  more  unhappy 
than  all  the  others;  but  after  thinking  it 
over,  and  listening  to  me,  they  understand 
that  this  disease  is  a  companion  with 
whom  one  can  live.  Just  as  in  every 
household,  one  gets  along  at  the  cost  of 
mutual  concessions,  that's  all.  Come,  sir, 
I  tell  you  again,  there  is  nothing  about  it 
that  is  not  perfectly  ordinary,  perfectly 
natural,  perfectly  common;  it  is  an  accident 
which  can  happen  to  any  one.  It  is  a 
great  mistake  that  people  speak  of  this  as 
the  Trench  disease/  for  there  is  none 
which  is  more  universal.  Under  the  pic 
ture  of  this  disease,  addressing  myself  to 
those  who  follow  the  oldest  profession  in 
the  world,  I  would  write  the  famous 
phrase:  'Here  is  your  master.  It  is,  it 
was,  or  it  must  be.' ' 


DAMAGED  GOODS  47 

George  was  putting  the  prescription  into 
the  outside  pocket  of  his  coat,  stupidly, 
as  if  he  did  not  know  what  he  was  doing. 
"But,  sir,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  should  have 
been  spared !" 

"Why?"  inquired  the  other.  "Because 
you  are  a  man  of  position,  because  you  are 
rich?  Look  around  you,  sir.  See  these 
works  of  art  in  my  room.  Do  you  imagine 
that  such  things  have  been  presented  to 
me  by  chimney-sweeps?" 

"But,  Doctor,"  cried  George,  with  a 
moan,  "I  have  never  been  a  libertine. 
There  was  never  any  one,  you  understand 
me,  never  any  one  could  have  been  more 
careful  in  his  pleasures.  If  I  were  to  tell 
you  that  in  all  my  life  I  have  only  had 
two  mistresses,  what  would  you  answer  to 
that?" 

"I  would  answer,  that  a  single  one  would 
have  been  sufficient  to  bring  you  to  me." 

"No,  sir!"  cried  George.  "It  could  not 
have  been  either  of  those  women."  He 
went  on  to  tell  the  doctor  about  his  first 
mistress,  and  then  about  Lizette.  Finally 
he  told  about  Henriette,  how  much  he 


48  DAMAGED   GOODS 

adored  her.  He  could  really  use  such  a 
word — he  loved  her  most  tenderly.  She 
was  so  good — and  he  had  thought  himself 
so  lucky! 

As  he  went  on,  he  could  hardly  keep 
from  going  to  pieces.  "I  had  everything," 
he  exclaimed,  "everything  a  man  needed! 
All  who  knew  me  envied  me.  And  then  I 
had  to  let  those  fellows  drag  me  off  to  that 
miserable"  supper-party!  And  now  here  I 
am!  My  future  is  ruined,  my  whole  exist 
ence  poisoned!  What  is  to  become  of  me? 
Everybody  will  avoid  me — I  shall  be  a 
pariah,  a  leper!" 

He  paused,  and  then  in  sudden  wild 
grief  exclaimed,  "Come  now!  Would  it 
not  be  better  that  I  should  take  myself 
out  of  the  way?  At  least,  I  should  not 
suffer  any  more.  You  see  that  there  could 
not  be  any  one  more  unhappy  than  my 
self — not  any  one,  I  tell  you,  sir,  not  any 
one!"  Completely  overcome,  he  began  to 
weep  in  his  handkerchief. 

The  doctor  got  up,  and  went  to  him. 
"You  must  be  a  man,"  he  said,  "and  not 
cry  like  a  child." 


DAMAGED  GOODS  40 

"But  sir,"  cried  the  young  man,  with 
tears  running  down  his  cheeks,  "if  I  had 
led  a  wild  life,  if  I  had  passed  my  time 
hi  dissipation  with  chorus  girls,  then  I 
could  understand  it.  Then  I  would  say 
that  I  had  deserved  it." 

The  doctor  exclaimed  with  emphasis, 
'•'No,  no!  You  would  not  say  it.  How 
ever,  it  is  of  no  matter — go  on." 

"I  tell  you  that  I  would  say  it.  I  am 
honest,  and  I  would  say  that  I  had 
deserved  it.  But  no,  I  have  deprived  my 
self  of  every  pleasure.  I  have  worked, 
I  have  been  a  regular  grind.  And  now, 
when  I  think  of  the  shame  that  is  in  store 
for  me,  the  disgusting  things,  the  fright 
ful  catastrophes  to  which  I  am  con 
demned 

"What  is  all  this  you  are  telling  me?" 
asked  the  doctor,  laughing. 

"Oh,  I  know,  I  know!"  cried  the  other, 
and  repeated  what  his  friend  had  told  him 
about  the  man  in  a  wheel-chair.  "And 
they  used  to  call  me  handsome  Raoul! 
That  was  my  name — handsome  Raoul!" 

"Now,   my  dear  sir,"  said  the  doctor,. 


50  DAMAGED  GOODS 

cheerfully,  "wipe  your  eyes  one  last  time, 
blow  your  nose,  put  your  handkerchief  into 
your  pocket,  and  hear  me  dry-eyed." 

George  obeyed  mechanically.  "But  I 
give  you  fair  warning,"  he  said,  "you  are 
wasting  your  time." 

"I  tell  you — "  began  the  other. 

"I  know  exactly  what  you  are  going  to 
tell  me!"  cried  George. 

"Well,  in  that  case,  there  is  nothing 
more  for  you  to  do  here — run  along." 

"Since  I  am  here,"  said  the  patient 
submissively,  "I  will  hear  you." 

"Very  well,  then.  I  tell  you  that  if  you 
have  the  will  and  the  perseverance,  none 
of  the  things  you  fear  will  happen  to  you." 

"Of  course,  it  is  your  duty  to  tell  me 
that." 

"I  tell  you  that  there  are  one  hundred 
thousand  like  you  in  Paris,  alert,  and 
seemingly  well.  Come,  take  what  you 
were  just  saying — wheel-chairs.  One 
doesn't  see  so  many  of  them." 

"No,  that's  true,"  said  George. 

"And  besides,"  added  the  doctor,  "a 
good  many  people  who  ride  in  them  are 


DAMAGED   GOODS  51 

not  there  for  the  cause  you  think.  There 
is  no  more  reason  why  you  should  be  the 
victim  of  a  catastrophe  than  any  of  the 
one  hundred  thousand.  The  disease  is 
serious,  nothing  more." 

"You  admit  that  it  is  a  serious  disease?" 
argued  George. 

"Yes." 

"One  of  the  most  serious?" 

"Yes,  but  you  have  the  good  fortune — " 

"The  good  fortune?" 

"Relatively,  if  you  please.  You  have 
the  good  fortune  to  be  infected  with  one 
of  the  diseases  over  which  we  have  the 
most  certain  control." 

"Yes,  yes,"  exclaimed  George,  "but  the 
remedies  are  worse  than  the  disease." 

"You  deceive  yourself,"  replied  the 
other. 

"You  are  trying  to  make  me  believe  that 
I  can  be  cured?" 

"You  can  be." 

"And  that  I  am  not  condemned?" 

"I  swear  it  to  you." 

"You  are  not  deceiving  yourself,  you 
are  not  deceiving  me?  Why,  I  was 
told—" 


52  DAMAGED   GOODS 

The  doctor  laughed,  contemptuously. 
"You  were  told,  you  were  told!  I'll 
wager  that  you  know  the  laws  of  the 
Chinese  concerning  party-walls." 

"Yes,  naturally,"  said  George.  "But  I 
don't  see  what  they  have  to  do  with  it." 

"Instead  of  teaching  you  such  things," 
was  the  reply,  "it  would  have  been  a 
great  deal  better  to  have  taught  you 
about  the  nature  and  cause  of  diseases  of 
this  sort.  Then  you  would  have  known 
how  to  avoid  the  contagion.  Such  knowl 
edge  should  be  spread  abroad,  for  it  is  the 
most  important  knowledge  in  the  world. 
It  should  be  found  in  every  newspaper." 

This  remark  gave  George  something  of  a 
shock,  for  his  father  had  owned  a  little 
paper  hi  the  provinces,  and  he  had  a 
sudden  vision  of  the  way  subscribers  would 
have  fallen  off,  if  he  had  printed  even  so 
much  as  the  name  of  this  vile  disease. 

"And  yet,"  pursued  the  doctor,  "you 
publish  romances  about  adultery!" 

"Yes,"  said  George,  "that's  what  the 
readers  want." 

"They  don't  want  the  truth  about  vene- 


DAMAGED   GOODS  53 

real  diseases,"  exclaimed  the  other.  "If 
they  knew  the  full  truth,  they  would  no 
longer  think  that  adultery  was  romantic 
and  interesting." 

He  went  on  to  give  his  advice  as  to  the 
means  of  avoiding  such  diseases.  There 
was  really  but  one  rule.  It  was:  To  love 
but  one  woman,  to  take  her  as  a  virgin, 
and  to  love  her  so  much  that  she  would 
never  deceive  you.  "Take  that  from  me," 
added  the  doctor,  "and  teach  it  to  your 
son,  when  you  have  one." 

George's  attention  was  caught  by  this 
last  sentence. 

"You  mean  that  I  shall  be  able  to  have 
children?"  he  cried. 

"Certainly,"  was  the  reply. 

"Healthy  children?" 

"I  repeat  it  to  you;  if  you  take  care  of 
yourself  properly  for  a  long  time,  con 
scientiously,  you  have  little  to  fear." 

"That's  certain?" 

"Ninety-nine  times  out  of  a  hundred." 

George  felt  as  if  he  had  suddenly 
emerged  from  a  dungeon.  "Why  then," 
he  exclaimed,  "I  shall  be  able  to  marry!" 


54  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"You  will  be  able  to  marry,"  was  the 
reply. 

"You  are  not  deceiving  me?  You  would 
not  give  me  that  hope,  you  would  not 
expose  me?  How  soon  will  I  be  able  to 
marry?" 

"In  three  or  four  years,"  said  the  doctor. 

"What!"  cried  George,  in  consternation. 
"In  three  or  four  years?  Not  before?" 

"Not  before." 

"How  is  that?  Am  I  going  to  be  sick 
all  that  time?  Why,  you  told  me  just 


now — " 


Said  the  doctor:  "The  disease  will  no 
longer  be  dangerous  to  you,  yourself — but 
you  will  be  dangerous  to  others." 

"But,"  the  young  man  cried,  in  despair, 
"I  am  to  be  married  a  month  from  now." 

"That  is  impossible." 

"But  I  cannot  do  any  differently.  The 
contract  is  ready!  The  banns  have  been 
published!  I  have  given  my  word!" 

"Well,  you  are  a  great  one!"  the  doctor 
laughed.  "Just  now  you  were  looking  for 
your  revolver!  Now  you  want  to  be 
married  within  the  month." 


DAMAGED  GOODS  55 

"But,  Doctor,  it  is  necessary!" 

"But  I  forbid  it." 

"As  soon  as  I  knew  that  the  disease  is 
not  what  I  imagined,  and  that  I  could  be 
cured,  naturally  I  didn't  want  to  commit 
suicide.  And  as  soon  as  I  make  up  my 
mind  not  to  commit  suicide,  I  have  to  take 
up  my  regular  life.  I  have  to  keep  my 
engagements;  I  have  to  get  married." 

"No,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Yes,  yes!"  persisted  George,  with  blind 
obstinacy.  "Why,  Doctor,  if  I  didn't  marry 
it  would  be  a  disaster.  You  are  talking 
about  something  you  don't  understand.  I, 
for  my  part — it  is  not  that  I  am  anxious  to 
be  married.  As  I  told  you,  I  had  almost  a 
second  family.  Lizette's  little  brothers 
adored  me.  But  it  is  my  aunt,  an  old 
maid;  and,  also,  my  mother  is  crazy  about 
the  idea.  If  I  were  to  back  out  now,  she 
would  die  of  chagrin.  My  aunt  would 
disinherit  me,  and  she  is  the  one  who  has 
the  family  fortune.  Then,  too,  there  is  my 
father-in-law,  a  regular  dragoon  for  his 
principles — severe,  violent.  He  never 
makes  a  joke  of  serious  things,  and  I  tell 


56  DAMAGED   GOODS 

you  it  would  cost  me  dear,  terribly  dear. 
And,  besides,  I  have  given  my  word." 

"You  must  take  back  your  word." 

"You  still  insist?"  exclaimed  George,  in 
despair.  "But  then,  suppose  that  it  were 
possible,  how  could  I  take  back  my  sig 
nature  which  I  put  at  the  bottom  of  the 
deed?  I  have  pledged  myself  to  pay  in 
two  months  for  the  attorney's  practice  I 
have  purchased!" 

"Sir,"  said  the  doctor,  "all  these 
things — " 

"You  are  going  to  tell  me  that  I  was 
lacking  in  prudence,  that  I  should  never 
have  disposed  of  my  wife's  dowry  until 
after  the  honeymoon!" 

"Sir,"  said  the  doctor,  again,  "all  these 
considerations  are  foreign  to  me.  I  am  a 
physician,  and  nothing  but  a  physician, 
and  I  can  only  tell  you  this:  If  you  marry 
before  three  or  four  years,  you  will  be  a 
criminal." 

George  broke  out  with  a  wild  exclama 
tion.  "No  sir,  you  are  not  merely  a 
physician!  You  are  also  a  confessor!  You 
are  not  merely  a  scientist;  and  it  is  not 


DAMAGED  GOODS  57 

enough  for  you  that  you  observe  me  as  you 
would  some  lifeless  thing  in  your  labora 
tory,  and  say,  'You  have  this;  science  says 
that;  now  go  along  with  you/  All  my 
existence  depends  upon  you.  It  is  your 
duty  to  listen  to  me,  because  when  you 
know  everything  you  will  understand  me, 
and  you  will  find  some  way  to  cure  me 
within  a  month." 

"But,"  protested  the  doctor,  "I  wear 
myself  out  telling  you  that  such  means 
do  not  exist.  I  shall  not  be  certain  of  your 
cure,  as  much  as  any  one  can  be  certain, 
An  less  than  three  or  four  years." 

George  was  almost  beside  himself.  "I 
tell  you  you  must  find  some  means!  Listen 
to  me,  sir — if  I  don't  get  married  I  don't 
get  the  dowry!  And  will  you  tell  me  how 
I  can  pay  the  notes  I  have  signed?" 

"Oh,"  said  the  doctor,  dryly,  "if  that  is 
the  question,  it  is  very  simple — I  will  give 
you  a  plan  to  get  out  of  the  affair.  You 
will  go  and  get  acquainted  with  some  rich 
man;  you  will  do  everything  you  can  to 
gain  his  confidence;  and  when  you  have 
succeeded,  you  will  plunder  him." 


58  DAMAGED   GOODS 

George  shook  his  head.  "I  am  not  in 
any  mood  for  joking." 

"I  am  not  joking/'  replied  his  adviser. 
"  Rob  that  man,  assassinate  him  even — that 
would  be  no  worse  crime  than  you  would 
commit  in  taking  a  young  girl  in  good 
health  in  order  to  get  a  portion  of  her 
dowry,  when  at  the  same  time  you  would 
have  to  expose  her  to  the  frightful  con 
sequences  of  the  disease  which  you  would 
give  her." 

"  Frightful  consequences?"  echoed  George. 

"Consequences  of  which  death  would  not 
be  the  most  frightful." 

"But  sir,  you  were  saying  to  me  just 


now — " 


"Just  now  I  did  not  tell  you  everything. 
Even  reduced,  suppressed  a  little  by  our 
remedies,  the  disease  remains  mysterious, 
menacing,  and  in  its  sum,  sufficiently 
grave.  So  it  would  be  an  infamy  to  expose 
your  fiancee  in  order  to  avoid  an  incon 
venience,  however  great  that  might  be." 

But  George  was  still  not  to  be  convinced. 
Was  it  certain  that  this  misfortune  would 
befall  Henriette,  even  with  the  best  atten 
tion?  • 


DAMAGED  GOODS  59 

Said  the  other:  "I  do  not  wish  to  lie  to 
you.  No,  it  is  not  absolutely  certain,  it 
is  probable.  And  there  is  another  truth 
which  I  wish  to  tell  you  now :  our  remedies 
are  not  infallible.  In  a  certain  number  of 
cases — a  very  small  number,  scarcely  five 
per  cent — they  have  remained  without 
effect.  You  might  be  one  of  those  excep 
tions,  your  wife  might  be  one.  What 
then?" 

"What  then?" 

"I  will  employ  a  word  you  used  just 
now,  yourself.  We  should  have  to  expect 
the  worst  catastrophes." 

George  sat  in  a  state  of  complete  despair. 

"Tell  me  what  to  do,  then,"  he  said. 

"I  can  tell  you  only  one  thing:  don't 
marry.  You  have  a  most  serious  blemish. 
It  is  as  if  you  owed  a  debt.  Perhaps  no 
one  will  ever  come  to  claim  it;  on  the 
other  hand,  perhaps  a  pitiless  creditor  will 
come  all  at  once,  presenting  a  brutal 
demand  for  immediate  payment.  Come 
now — you  are  a  businesss  man.  Marriage 
is  a  contract;  to  marry  without  saying 
anything — that  means  to  enter  into  a 


60  DAMAGED  GOODS 

bargain  by  means  of  passive  dissimulation. 
That's  the  term,  is  it  not?  It  is  dishonesty, 
and  it  ought  to  come  under  the  law." 

George,  being  a  lawyer,  could  appreciate 
the  argument,  and  could  think  of  nothing 
to  say  to  it. 

"What  shall  I  do?"  he  asked. 

The  other  answered,  "Go  to  your  father- 
in-law  and  tell  him  frankly  the  truth." 

"But,"  cried  the  young  man,  wildly, 
"there  will  be  no  question  then  of  three  or 
four  years'  delay.  He  will  refuse  his  con 
sent  altogether." 

"If  that  is  the  case,"  said  the  doctor, 
"don't  tell  him  anything." 

"But  I  have  to  give  him  a  reason,  or  I 
don't  know  what  he  will  do.  He  is  the 
sort  of  man  to  give  himself  to  the  worst 
violence,  and  again  my  fiancee  would  be 
lost  to  me.  Listen,  Doctor.  From  every 
thing  I  have  said  to  you,  you  may  perhaps 
think  I  am  a  mercenary  man.  It  is  true 
that  I  want  to  get  along  in  the  world,  that 
is  only  natural.  But  Henriette  has  such 
qualities;  she  is  so  much  better  than  I, 
that  I  love  her,  really,  as  people  love  in 


DAMAGED  GOODS  61 

novels.  My  greatest  grief — it  is  not  to 
give  up  the  practice  I  have  bought — 
although,  indeed,  it  would  be  a  bitter  blow 
to  me;  my  greatest  grief  would  be  to  lose 
Henriette.  If  you  could  only  see  her,  if 
you  only  knew  her — then  you  would  under 
stand.  I  have  her  picture  here — " 

The  young  fellow  took  out  his  card-case, 
and  offered  a  photograph  to  the  doctor, 
who  gently  refused  it.  The  other  blushed 
with  embarrassment. 

"I  beg  your  pardon,"  he  said,  "I  am 
ridiculous.  That  happens  to  me,  some 
times.  Only,  put  yourself  in  my.  place — I 
love  her  so!"  His  voice  broke. 

"My  dear  boy,"  said  the  doctor,  feel 
ingly,  "that  is  exactly  why  you  ought  not 
to  marry  her." 

"But,"  he  cried,  "if  I  back  out  without 
saying  anything  they  will  guess  the  truth, 
and  I  shall  be  dishonored." 

"One  is  not  dishonored  because  one  is 
ill." 

"But  with  such  a  disease!  People  are 
so  stupid.  I  myself,  yesterday — I  should 
have  laughed  at  anyone  I  knew  who  had 


62  DAMAGED  GOODS 

got  into  such  a  plight;  I  should  have 
avoided  him,  I  should  have  despised  him!" 
And  suddenly  George  broke  down  again. 
"Oh!"  he  cried,  "if  I  were  the  only  one  to 
suffer;  but  she — she  is  in  love  with  me. 
I  swear  it  to  you!  She  is  SG  good;  and  she 
will  be  so  unhappy!" 

The  doctor  answered,  "She  would  be 
unhappier  later  on." 

"It  will  be  a  scandal!"  George  exclaimed. 

"You  will  avoid  one  far  greater,"  the 
other  replied. 

Suddenly  George  set  his  lips  with  resolu 
tion.  He  rose  from  his  seat.  He  took 
several  twenty-franc  pieces  from  his 
pocket  and  laid  them  quietly  upon  the 
doctor's  desk — paying  the  fee  in  cash,  so 
that  he  would  not  have  to  give  his  name 
and  address.  He  took  up  his  gloves,  his 
cane  and  his  hat,  and  rose. 

"I  wiU  think  it  over,"  he  said.  "I 
thank  you,  Doctor.  I  will  come  back  next 
week  as  you  have  told  me.  That  is — 
probably  I  will." 

He  was  about  to  leave. 

The  doctor  rose,  and  he  spoke  in  a  voice 


DAMAGED  GOODS  63 

of  furious  anger.  "No,"  he  said,  "I  shan't 
see  you  next  week,  and  you  won't  even 
think  it  over.  You  came  here  knowing 
what  you  had;  you  came  to  ask  advice  of 
me,  with  the  intention  of  paying  no  heed 
to  it,  unless  it  conformed  to  your  wishes. 
A  superficial  honesty  has  driven  you  to 
take  that  chance  in  order  to  satisfy  your 
conscience.  You  wanted  to  have  some 
body  upon  whom  you  could  put  off,  bye 
and  bye,  the  consequences  of  an  act  whose 
culpability  you  understand!  No,  don't 
protest!  Many  of  those  who  come  here 
think  and  act  as  you  think,  and  as  you 
wish  to  act;  but  the  marriage  made 
against  my  will  has  generally  been  the 
source  of  such  calamities  that  now  I  am 
always  afraid  of  not  having  been  per-, 
supsive  enough,  and  it  even  seems  to  me 
that  I  am  a  little  to  blame  for  these  mis 
fortunes.  I  should  have  been  able  to  pre 
vent  them;  they  would  not  have  happened 
if  those  who  are  the  authors  of  them  knew 
what  I  know  and  had  seen  what  I  have 
seen.  Swear  to  me,  sir,  that  you  are 
going  to  break  off  that  marriage!" 


64  DAMAGED  GOODS 

George  was  greatly  embarrassed,  and 
unwilling  to  reply.  "I  cannot  swear  to 
you  at  all,  Doctor;  I  can  only  tell  you 
again  that  I  will  think  it  over." 

"  Think  what  over?" 

"What  you  have  told  me." 

"What  I  have  told  you  is  true!  You 
cannot  bring  any  new  objections;  and  I 
have  answered  those  which  you  have  pre 
sented  to  me;  therefore,  your  mind  ought 
to  be  made  up." 

Groping  for  a  reply,  George  hesitated. 
He  could  not  deny  that  he  had  made 
inquiry  about-  these  matters  before  he  had 
come  to  the  doctor.  But  he  said  that  he 
was  not  at  all  certain  that  he  had  this 
disease.  The  doctor  declared  it,  and  per 
haps  it  was  true,  but  the  most  learned 
physicians  were  sometimes  deceived. 

He  remembered  something  he  had  read 
in  one  of  the  medical  books.  "Dr.  Ricord 
maintains  that  after  a  certain  period  the 
disease  is  no  longer  contagious.  He  has 
proven  his  contentions  by  examples. 
Today  you  produce  new  examples  to  show 
that  he  is  wrong!  Now,  I  want  to  do 


DAMAGED  GOODS  65 

what's  right,  but  surely  I  have  the  right 
to  think  it  over.  And  when  I  think  it 
over,  I  realize  that  all  the  evils  with  which 
you  threaten  me  are  only  probable  evils. 
In  spite  of  your  desire  to  terrify  me,  you 
have  been  forced  to  admit  that  possibly 
my  marriage  would  not  have  any  trouble 
some  consequence  for  my  wife." 

The  doctor  found  difficulty  in  restraining 
himself.  But  he  said,  "Go  on.  I  will 
answer  you  afterwards." 

And  George  blundered  ahead  in  his 
desperation.  "Your  remedies  are  power 
ful,  you  tell  me;  and  for  the  calamities  of 
which  you  speak  to  befall  me,  I  would  have 
to  be  among  the  rare  exceptions — also  my 
wife  would  have  to  be  among  the  number 
of  those  rare  exceptions.  If  a  mathemati 
cian  were  to  apply  the  law  of  chance  to 
these  facts,  the  result  of  his  operation 
would  show  but  slight  chance  of  a  catas 
trophe,  as  compared  with  the  absolute 
certainty  of  a  series  of  misfortunes,  suffer 
ings,  troubles,  tears,  and  perhaps  tragic 
accidents  which  the  breaking  of  my  engage 
ment  would  cause.  So  I  say  that  the 


66  DAMAGED  GOODS 

mathematician — who  is,  even  more  than 
you,  a  man  of  science,  a  man  of  a  more 
infallible  science — the  mathematician  would 
conclude  that  wisdom  was  not  with  you 
doctors,  but  with  me." 

"You  believe  it,  sir!"  exclaimed  the 
other.  "But  you  deceive  yourself."  And 
he  continued,  driving  home  his  point  with 
a  finger  which  seemed  to  George  to  pierce 
his  very  soul.  "Twenty  cases  identical 
with  your  own  have  been  patiently  ob 
served,  from  the  beginning  to  the  end. 
Nineteen  times  the  woman  was  infected 
by  her  husband;  you  hear  me,  sir,  nineteen 
times  out  of  twenty!  You  believe  that  the 
disease  is  without  danger,  and  you  take  to 
yourself  the  right  to  expose  your  wife  to 
what  you  call  the  chance  of  your  being 
one  of  those  exceptions,  for  whom  our 
remedies  are  without  effect.  Very  well; 
it  is  necessary  that  you  should  know  every 
thing;  it  is  necessary  that  you  should 
know  the  disease  which  your  wife,  without 
being  consulted,  will  run  a  chance  of  con 
tracting.  Take  that  book,  sir;  it  is  the 
work  of  my  teacher.  Read  it  yourself. 
Here,  I  have  marked  the  passage." 


DAMAGED  GOODS  67 

He  held  out  the  open  book;  but  George 
could  not  lift  a  hand  to  take  it. 

"You  do  not  wish  to  read  it?"  the  other 
continued.  "  Listen  to  me."  And  in  a 
voice  trembling  with  passion,  he  read :  "  'I 
have  watched  the  spectacle  of  an  unfor 
tunate  young  woman,  turned  into  a  veri 
table  monster  by  means  of  a  syphilitic 
infection.  Her  face,  or  rather  let  me  say 
what  was  left  of  her  face,  was  nothing  but 
a  flat  surface  seamed  with  scars/  ' 

George  covered  his  face,  exclaiming, 
"Enough,  sir!  Have  mercy!" 

But  the  other  cried,  "No,  no!  I  will  go 
to  the  very  end.  I  have  a  duty  to  per 
form,  and  I  will  not  be  stopped  by  the 
sensibility  of  your  nerves." 

He  went  on  reading:  "  ' Of  the  upper  lip 
not  a  trace  was  left;  the  ridge  of  the  upper 
gums  appeared  perfectly  bare.' '  But  then, 
at  the  young  man's  protests,  his  resolution 
failed  him.  "Come,"  he  said,  "I  will  stop. 
I  am  sorry  for  you — you  who  accept  for 
another  person,  for  the  woman  you  say 
you  love,  the  chance  of  a  disease  which 
you  cannot  even  endure  to  hear  described. 


68  DAMAGED  GOODS 

Now,  from  whom  did  that  woman  get 
syphilis?  It  is  not  I  who  am  speaking,  it 
is  the  book.  'From  a  miserable  scoundrel 
who  was  not  afraid  to  enter  into  matrimony 
when  he  had  a  secondary  eruption.'  All 
that  was  established  later  on — 'and  who, 
moreover,  had  thought  it  best  not  to  let  his 
wife  be  treated  for  fear  of  awakening  her 
suspicions ! ' 

The  doctor  closed  the  book  with  a  bang. 
"What  that  man  has  done,  sir,  is  what  you 
want  to  do." 

George  was  edging  toward  the  door;  he 
could  no  longer  look  the  doctor  in  the  eye. 
"I  should  deserve  all  those  epithets  and 
still  more  brutal  ones  if  I  should  marry, 
knowing  that  my  marriage  would  cause 
such  horrors.  But  that  I  do  not  believe. 
You  and  your  teachers — you  are  specialists, 
and  consequently  you  are  driven  to  at 
tribute  everything  to  the  disease  you  make 
the  subject  of  your  studies.  A  tragic  case, 
an  exceptional  case,  holds  a  kind  of  fascina 
tion  for  you;  you  think  it  can  never  be 
talked  about  enough." 

"I  have  heard  that  argument  before," 
said  the  doctor,  with  an  effort  at  patience. 


DAMAGED  GOODS  69 

"Let  me  go  on,  I  beg  you,"  pleaded 
George.  "You  have  told  me  that  out  of 
every  seven  men  there  is  one  syphilitic. 
You  have  told  me  that  there  are  one  hun 
dred  thousand  in  Paris,  coming  and  going, 
alert,  and  apparently  well." 

"It  is  true,"  said  the  doctor,  "that  there 
are  one  hundred  thousand  who  are  actually 
at  this  moment  not  visibly  under  the 
influence  of  the  disease.  But  many  thou 
sands  have  passed  into  our  hospitals,  vic 
tims  of  the  most  frightful  ravages  that  our 
poor  bodies  can  support.  These — you  do 
not  see  them,  and  they  do  not  count  for 
you.  But  again,  if  it  concerned  no  one  but 
yourself,  you  might  be  able  to  argue  thus. 
What  I  declare  to  you,  what  I  affirm  with 
all  the  violence  of  my  conviction,  is  that 
you  have  not  the  right  to  expose  a  human 
creature  to  such  chances — rare,  as  I  know, 
but  terrible,  as  I  know  still  better. 
What  have  you  to  answer  to  that?" 

"Nothing,"  stammered  George,  brought 
to  his  knees  at  last.  "You  are  right  about 
that.  I  don't  know  what  to  think." 

"And  in  forbidding  you  marriage,"  con- 


70  DAMAGED  GOODS 

tinued  the  doctor,  "is  it  the  same  as  if  I 
forbade  it  forever?  Is  it  the  same  as  if  I 
told  you  that  you  could  never  be  cured? 
On  the  contrary,  I  hold  out  to  you  every 
hope;  but  I  demand  of  you  a  delay  of 
three  or  four  years,  because  it  will  take  me 
that  time  to  find  out  if  you  are  among  the 
number  of  those  unfortunate  ones  whom  I 
pity  with  all  my  heart,  for  whom  the 
disease  is  without  mercy;  because  during 
that  time  you  will  be  dangerous  to  your 
wife  and  to  your  children.  The  children 
I  have  not  yet  mentioned  to  you." 

Here  the  doctor's  voice  trembled  slightly. 
He  spoke  with  moving  eloquence.  "Come, 
sir,  you  are  an  honest  man;  you  are  too 
young  for  such  things  not  to  move  you; 
you  are  not  insensible  to  duty.  It  is 
impossible  that  I  shan't  be  able  to  find  a 
way  to  your  heart,  that  I  shan't  be  able  to 
make  you  obey  me.  My  emotion  in  speak 
ing  to  you  proves  that  I  appreciate  your 
suffering,  that  I  suffer  with  you.  It  is  in 
the  name  of  my  sincerity  that  I  implore 
you.  You  have  admitted  it — that  you 
have  not  the  right  to  expose  your  wife  to 


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DAMAGED  GOODS  71 

such  miseries.  But  it  is  not  only  your  wife 
that  you  strike;  you  may  attack  in  her 
your  own  children.  I  exclude  you  for  a 
moment  from  my  thought — you  and  her. 
It  is  in  the  name  of  these  innocents  that  I 
implore  you;  it  is  the  future,  it  is  the  race 
that  I  defend.  Listen  to  me,  listen  to  me! 
Out  of  the  twenty  households  of  which  I 
spoke,  only  fifteen  had  children;  these 
fifteen  had  twenty-eight.  Do  you  know 
how  many  out  of  these  twenty-eight  sur 
vived?  Three,  sir!  Three  out  of  twenty- 
eight!  Syphilis  is  above  everything  a  mur 
derer  of  children.  Herod  reigns  in  France, 
and  over  all  the  earth,  and  begins  each 
year  his  massacre  of  the  innocents;  and 
if  it  be  not  blasphemy  against  the  sacred- 
ness  of  life,  I  say  that  the  most  happy  are 
those  who  have  disappeared.  Visit  our 
children's  hospitals!  We  know  too  well 
the  child  of  syphilitic  parents;  the  type  is 
classical;  the  doctors  can  pick  it  out  any 
where.  Those  little  old  creatures  who 
have  the  appearance  of  having  already 
lived,  and  who  have  kept  the  stigmata  of 
all  our  infirmities,  of  all  our  decay.  They 


72  DAMAGED  GOODS 

are  the  victims  of  fathers  who  have  mar 
ried,  being  ignorant  of  what  you  know — 
things  which  I  should  like  to  go  and  cry 
out  hi  the  public  places." 

The  doctor  paused,  and  then  in  a  solemn 
voice  continued:  "I  have  told  you  all, 
without  exaggeration.  Think  it  over. 
Consider  the  pros  and  cons;  sum  up  the 
possible  misfortunes  and  the  certain  miseries. 
But  disregard  yourself,  and  consider  that 
there  are  in  one  side  of  the  scales  the  mis 
fortunes  of  others,  and  in  the  other  your 
own.  Take  care  that  you  are  just." 

George  was  at  last  overcome.  "Very 
well,"  he  said,  "I  give  way.  I  won't  get 
married.  I  will  invent  some  excuse;  I 
will  get  a  delay  of  six  months.  More  than 
that,  I  cannot  do." 

The  doctor  exclaimed,  "I  need  three 
years — I  need  four  years!" 

"No,  Doctor!"  persisted  George.  "You 
can  cure  me  in  less  time  than  that." 

The  other  answered,  "No!  no!  no!" 

George  caught  him  by  the  hand,  implor 
ingly.  "Yes!  Science  is  all  powerful!" 

"Science  is  not  God,"  was  the  reply. 
"There  are  no  longer  any  miracles." 


DAMAGED   GOODS  73 

"If  only  you  wanted  to  do  it!"  cried  the 
young  man,  hysterically.  "You  are  a 
learned  man;  seek,  invent,  find  something! 
Try  some  new  plan  with  me;  give  me 
double  the  dose,  ten  times  the  dose;  make 
me  suffer.  I  give  myself  up  to  you;  I  will 
endure  everything — I  swear  it!  There 
ought  to  be  some  way  to  cure  me  within 
six  months.  Listen  to  me!  I  tell  you  I 
can't  answer  for  myself  with  that  delay. 
Come;  it  is  in  the  name  of  my  wife,  in  the 
name  of  my  children,  that  I  implore  you. 
Do  something  for  them!" 

The  doctor  had  reached  the  limit  of 
his  patience.  "Enough,  sir!"  he  cried. 
"Enough!" 

But  nothing  could  stop  the  wretched 
man.  "On  my  knees!"  he  cried.  "I  put 
myself  on  my  knees  before  you!  Oh!  if 
only  you  would  do  it!  I  would  bless  you; 
I  would  adore  you,  as  one  adores  a  god! 
All  my  gratitude,  all  my  life — half  my 
fortune!  For  mercy's  sake,  Doctor,  do 
something;  invent  something;  make  some 
discovery — have  pity!" 

The  doctor  answered,  gravely,  "Do  you 


74  DAMAGED   GOODS 

wish  me  to  do  more  for  you  than  for  the 
others?" 

George  answered,  unblushingly,  "Yes!" 
He  was  beside  himself  with  terror  and 
distress. 

The  other's  reply  was  delivered  in  a 
solemn  tone.  "Understand,  sir,  for  every 
one  of  our  patients  we  do  all  that  we  can, 
whether  it  be  the  greatest  personage,  or 
the  last  comer  to  our  hospital  clinic.  We 
have  no  secrets  hi  reserve  for  those  who  are 
more  fortunate,  or  less  fortunate  than  the 
others,  and  who  are  in  a  hurry  to  be 
cured." 

George  gazed  at  him  for  a  moment  in 
bewilderment  and  despair,  and  then  sud 
denly  bowed  his  head.  "Good-by,  Doctor," 
he  answered. 

"Au  revoir,  sir,"  the  other  corrected — 
with  what  proved  to  be  prophetic  under 
standing.  For  George  was  destined  to  see 
him  again — even  though  he  had  made  up 
his  mind  to  the  contrary! 


CHAPTER  III 

GEORGE  DUPONT  had  the  most 
important  decision  of  his  life  to 
make;  but  there  was  never  very 
much  doubt  what  his  decision  would  be. 
On  the  one  hand  was  the  definite  certainty 
that  if  he  took  the  doctor's  advice,  he  would 
wreck  his  business  prospects,  and  perhaps 
also  lose  the  woman  he  loved.  On  the  other 
hand  were  vague  and  uncertain  possibilities 
which  it  was  difficult  for  him  to  make  real 
to  himself.  It  was  all  very  well  to  wait 
awhile  to  be  cured  of  the  dread  disease; 
but  to  wait  three  or  four  years — that  was 
simply  preposterous! 

He  decided  to  consult  another  physi 
cian.  He  would  find  one  this  time  who 
would  not  be  so  particular,  who  would 
be  willing  to  take  some  trouble  to  cure 
him  quickly.  He  began  to  notice  the 
advertisements  which  were  scattered  over 

(75) 


76  DAMAGED  GOODS 

the  pages  of  the  newspapers  he  read. 
There  were  apparently  plenty  of  doctors 
in  Paris  who  could  cure  him,  who  were 
willing  to  guarantee  to  cure  him.  After 
much  hesitation,  he  picked  out  one  whose 
advertisement  sounded  the  most  convincing. 
The  office  was  located  in  a  cheap  quar 
ter.  It  was  a  dingy  place,  not  encum 
bered  with  works  of  art,  but  with  a  few 
books  covered  with  dust.  The  doctor 
himself  was  stout  and  greasy,  and  he 
rubbed  his  hands  with  anticipation  at  the 
sight  of  so  prosperous-looking  a  patient. 
But  he  was  evidently  a  man  of  experience, 
for  he  knew  exactly  what  was  the  matter 
with  George,  almost  without  the  formality 
of  an  examination.  Yes,  he  could  cure 
him,  quickly,  he  said.  There  had  recently 
been  great  discoveries  made — new  meth 
ods  which  had  not  reached  the  bulk  of 
the  profession.  He  laughed  at  the  idea 
of  three  or  four  years.  That  was  the 
way  with  those  specialists!  When  one 
got  forty  francs  for  a  consultation,  naturally, 
one  was  glad  to  drag  out  the  case.  There 
were  tricks  in  the  medical  trade,  as  in 


DAMAGED  GOODS  77 

all  others.  A  doctor  had  to  live;  when  he 
had  a  big  name,  he  had  to  live  expensively. 

The  new  physician  wrote  out  two 
prescriptions,  and  patted  George  on  the 
shoulder  as  he  went  away.  There  was  no 
need  for  him  to  worry;  he  would  surely 
be  well  in  three  months.  If  he  would 
put  off  his  marriage  for  six  months,  he 
would  be  doing  everything  within  reason. 
And  meantime,  there  was  no  need  for  him 
to  worry  himself — things  would  come  out 
all  right.  So  George  went  away,  feeling 
as  if  a  mountain  had  been  lifted  from  his 
shoulders. 

He  went  to  see  Henriette  that  same 
evening,  to  get  the  matter  settled.  "Hen 
riette/'  he  said,  "I  have  to  tell  you  some 
thing  very  important — something  rather 
painful.  I  hope  you  won't  let  it  disturb 
you  too  much." 

She  was  gazing  at  him  in  alarm.  "What 
is  it?" 

"Why,"  he  said,  blushing  in  spite  of 
himself,  and  regretting  that  he  had  begun 
the  matter  so  precipitately,  "for  some 
time  I've  not  been  feeling  quite  well.  I've 


78  DAMAGED   GOODS 

been  having  a  slight  cough.      Have  you 
noticed  it?" 

"Why  no!"  exclaimed  Henriette,  anx 
iously. 

"Well,   today   I  went  to  see  a  doctor, 

and  he  says  that  there  is  a  possibility — 

you  understand  it  is  nothing  very  serious 

—but  it  might  be — I  might  possibly  have 

lung  trouble. 

"George!"  cried  the  girl,  in  horror. 

He  put  his  hand  upon  hers.  "Don't  be 
frightened,"  he  said.  "It  will  be  all  right, 
only  I  have  to  take  care  of  myself."  How 
very  dear  of  her,  he  thought — to  be  so 
much  worried! 

"George,  you  ought  to  go  away  to  the 
country!"  she  cried.  "You  have  been 
working  too  hard.  I  always  told  you 
that  if  you  shut  yourself  up  so  much— 

"I  am  going  to  take  care  of  myself," 
he  said.  "I  realize  that  it  is  necessary. 
I  shall  be  all  right — the  doctor  assured  me 
there  was  no  doubt  of  it,  so  you  are  not 
to  distress  yourself.  But  meantime,  here 
is  the  trouble:  I  don't  think  it  would  be 
right  for  me  to  marry  until  I  am  perfectly 
well." 


DAMAGED  GOODS  79 

Henriette  gave  an  exclamation  of  dismay. 

"I  am  sure  we  should  put  it  off,"  he 
went  on,  "it  would  be  only  fair  to  you." 

"But,  George!"  she  protested.  "Surely 
it  can't  be  that  serious!" 

"We  ought  to  wait,"  he  said.  "You 
ought  not  to  take  the  chance  of  being 
married  to  a  consumptive." 

The  other  protested  in  consternation. 
He  did  not  look  like  a  consumptive;  she 
did  not  believe  that  he  was  a  consumptive. 
She  was  willing  to  take  her  chances.  She 
loved  him,  and  she  was  not  afraid.  But 
George  insisted — he  was  sure  that  he  ought 
not  to  marry  for  six  months. 

"Did  the  doctor  advise  that?"  asked 
Henriette. 

"No,"  he  replied,  "but  I  made  up  my 
mind  after  talking  to  him  that  I  must  do 
the  fair  and  honorable  thing.  I  beg  you 
to  forgive  me,  and  to  believe  that  I  know 
best." 

George  stood  firmly  by  this  position,  and 
so  in  the  end  she  had  to  give  way.  It 
did  not  seem  quite  modest  in  her  to  con 
tinue  persisting. 


80  DAMAGED   GOODS 

George  volunteered  to  write  a  letter  to 
her  father;  and  he  hoped  this  would 
settle  the  matter  without  further  dis 
cussion.  But  hi  this  he  was  disappointed. 
There  had  to  be  a  long  correspondence 
with  long  arguments  and  protestations 
from  Henriette's  father  and  from  his  own 
mother.  It  seemed  such  a  singular  whim. 
Everybody  persisted  in  diagnosing  his  symp 
toms,  in  questioning  him  about  what  the 
doctor  had  said,  who  the  doctor  was,  how 
he  had  come  to  consult  him — all  of  which, 
of  course,  was  very  embarrassing  to  George, 
who  could  not  see  why  they  had  to  make 
such  a  fuss.  He  took  to  cultivating  a 
consumptive  look,  as  well  as  he  could 
imagine  it;  he  took  to  coughing  as  he  went 
about  the  house — and  it  was  all  he  could 
do  to  keep  from  laughing,  as  he  saw  the 
look  of  dismay  on  his  poor  mother's  face. 
After  all,  however,  he  told  himself  that  he 
was  not  deceiving  her,  for  the  disease  he 
had  was  quite  as  serious  as  tuberculosis. 

It  was  very  painful  and  very  trying. 
But  there  was  nothing  that  could  be  done 
about  it;  the  marriage  had  been  put  off 


DAMAGED  GOODS  81 

for  six  months,  and  in  the  meantime  he 
and  Henriette  had  to  control  their  impa 
tience  and  make  the  best  of  their  situation. 
Six  months  was  a  long  time;  but  what  if  it 
had  been  three  or  four  years,  as  the  other 
doctor  had  demanded?  That  would  have 
been  a  veritable  sentence  of  death. 

George,  as  we  have  seen,  was  conscien 
tious,  and  regular  and  careful  in  his  habits. 
He  took  the  medicine  which  the  new 
doctor  prescribed  for  him;  and  day  by 
day  he  watched,  and  to  his  great  relief 
saw  the  troublesome  symptoms  gradu 
ally  disappearing.  He  began  to  take 
heart,  and  to  look  forward  to  life  with  his 
former  buoyancy.  He  had  had  a  bad 
scare,  but  now  everything  was  going  to 
be  all  right. 

Three  or  four  months  passed,  and  the 
doctor  told  him  he  was  cured.  He  really 
was  cured,  so  far  as  he  could  see.  He  was 
sorry,  now,  that  he  had  asked  for  so  long 
a  delay  from  Henriette;  but  the  new  date 
for  the  wedding  had  been  announced,  and 
it  would  be  awkward  to  change  it  again. 
George  told  himself  that  he  was  being 


82  DAMAGED   GOODS 

"extra  careful,"  and  he  was  repaid  for  the 
inconvenience  by  the  feeling  of  virtue 
derived  from  the  delay.  He  was  relieved 
that  he  did  not  have  to  cough  any  more, 
or  to  invent  any  more  tales  of  his  interviews 
with  the  imaginary  lung-specialist.  Some 
times  he  had  guilty  feelings  because  of 
all  the  lying  he  had  had  to  do;  but  he  told 
himself  that  it  was  for  Henriette's  sake. 
She  loved  him  as  much  as  he  loved  her. 
She  would  have  suffered  needless  agonies 
had  she  known  the  truth;  she  would  never 
have  got  over  it — so  it  would  have  been  a 
crime  to  tell  her. 

He  really  loved  her  devotedly,  thoroughly. 
From  the  beginning  he  had  thought 
as  much  of  her  mental  sufferings  as  he 
had  of  any  physical  harm  that  the  dread 
disease  might  do  to  him.  How  could  he 
possibly  persuade  himself  to  give  her  up, 
when  he  knew  that  the  separation  would 
break  her  heart  and  ruin  her  whole  life? 
No;  obviously,  in  such  a  dilemma,  it 
was  his  duty  to  use  his  own  best  judg 
ment,  and  get  himself  cured  as  quickly 
as  possible.  After  that  he  would  be  true 


DAMAGED  GOODS  83 

to  her,  he  would  take  no  more  chances  of  a 
loathsome  disease. 

The  secret  he  was  hiding  made  him  feel 
humble — made  him  unusually  gentle  in 
his  attitude  towards  the  girl.  He  was  a 
perfect  lover,  and  she  was  ravished  with 
happiness.  She  thought  that  all  his  suf 
ferings  were  because  of  his  love  for  her, 
and  the  delay  which  he  had  imposed  out 
of  his  excess  of  conscientiousness.  So 
she  loved  him  more  and  more,  and  never 
was  there  a  happier  bride  than  Henriette 
Loches,  when  at  last  the  great  day  arrived. 

They  went  to  the  Riviera  for  their 
honeymoon,  and  then  returned  to  live  in 
the  home  which  had  belonged  to  George's 
father.  The  investment  in  the  notary's 
practice  had  proven  a  good  one,  and  so 
life  held  out  every  promise  for  the  young 
couple.  They  were  divinely  happy. 

After  a  while,  the  bride  communicated 
to  her  husband  the  tidings  that  she  was 
expecting  a  child.  Then  it  seemed  to 
George  that  the  cup  of  his  earthly  bliss  was 
full.  His  ailment  had  slipped  far  into  the 
background  of  his  thoughts,  like  an  evil 


84  DAMAGED  GOODS 

dream  which  he  had  forgotten.  He  put 
away  the  medicines  in  the  bottom  of  his 
trunk  and  dismissed  the  whole  matter 
from  his  mind.  Henriette  was  well — a  very 
picture  of  health,  as  every  one  agreed. 
The  doctor  had  never  seen  a  more  prom 
ising  young  mother,  he  declared,  and  Ma 
dame  Dupont,  the  elder,  bloomed  with  fresh 
life  and  joy  as  she  attended  her  daughter- 
in-law. 

Henriette  went  for  the  summer  to  her 
father's  place  in  the  provinces,  which  she 
and  George  had  visited  before  their  mar 
riage.  They  drove  out  one  day  to  the 
farm  where  they  had  stopped.  The 
farmer's  wife  had  a  week-old  baby,  the 
sight  of  which  made  Henriette's  heart  leap 
with  delight.  He  was  such  a  very  healthy 
baby  that  George  conceived  the  idea  that 
this  would  be  the  woman  to  nurse  his  own 
child,  in  case  Henriette  herself  should  not 
be  able  to  do  it. 

They  came  back  to  the  city,  and  there 
the  baby  was  born.  As  George  paced  the 
floor,  waiting  for  the  news,  the  memory 
of  his  evil  dreams  came  back  to  him. 


DAMAGED  GOODS  85 

He  remembered  all  the  dreadful  mon 
strosities  of  which  he  had  read — infants 
that  were  born  of  syphilitic  parents.  His 
heart  stood  still  when  the  nurse  came  into 
the  room  to  tell  him  the  tidings. 

But  it  was  all  right;  of  course  it  was  all 
right!  He  had  been  a  fool,  he  told  him 
self,  as  he  stood  in  the  darkened  room  and 
gazed  at  the  wonderful  little  mite  of  life 
which  was  the  fruit  of  his  love.  It  was  a 
perfect  child,  the  doctor  said — a  little 
small,  to  be  sure,  but  that  was  a  defect 
which  would  soon  be  remedied.  George 
kneeled  by  the  bedside  and  kissed  the 
hand  of  his  wife,  and  went  out  of  the  room 
feeling  as  if  he  had  escaped  from  a  tomb. 

All  went  well,  and  after  a  couple  of 
weeks  Henriette  was  about  the  house  again, 
laughing  ah1  day  and  singing  with  joy. 
But  the  baby  did  not  gain  quite  as  rapidly 
as  the  doctor  had  hoped,  and  it  was  de 
cided  that  the  country  air  would  be  better 
for  her.  So  George  and  his  mother  paid  a 
visit  to  the  farm  in  the  country,  and  ar 
ranged  that  the  country  woman  should 
put  her  own  child  to  nurse  elsewhere  and 


DAMAGED   GOODS 


should  become  the  foster-mother  of  little 
Gervaise. 

George  paid  a  good  price  for  the  service, 
far  more  than  would  have  been  necessary, 
for  the  simple  country  woman  was  de 
lighted  with  the  idea  of  taking  care  of  the 
grandchild  of  the  deputy  of  her  district. 
George  came  home  and  told  his  wife  about 
this  and  had  a  merry  tune  as  he  pictured 
the  woman  boasting  about  it  to  the  travelers 
who  stopped  at  her  door.  "Yes,  ma'am, 
a  great  piece  of  luck  I've  got,  ma'am. 
I've  got  the  daughter  of  the  daughter  of 
our  deputy — at  your  service,  ma'am.  My ! 
but  she  is  as  fat  as  our  little  calf — and  so 
clever!  She  understands  everything.  A 
great  piece  of  luck  for  me,  ma'am.  She's 
the  daughter  of  the  daughter  of  our  deputy!" 
Henriette  was  vastly  entertained,  discover 
ing  in  her  husband  a  new  talent,  that  of 
an  actor. 

As  for  George's  mother,  she  was  hardly 
to  be  persuaded  from  staying  in  the  country 
with  the  child.  She  went  once  a  week, 
and  sometimes  twice  a  week,  to  make  sure 
that  all  went  well.  Henriette  and  she 


DAMAGED   GOODS  87 

lived  with  the  child's  picture  before  them; 
they  spent  their  time  sewing  on  caps  and 
underwear — all  covered  with  laces  and 
frills  and  pink  and  blue  ribbons.  Every 
day,  when  George  came  home  from  his 
work,  he  found  some  new  article  completed, 
and  was  ravished  by  the  scent  of  some  new 
kind  of  sachet  powder.  What  a  lucky  man 
he  was! 

You  would  think  he  must  have  been 
the  happiest  man  in  the  whole  city  of  Paris. 
But  George,  alas,  had  to  pay  the  penalty 
for  his  early  sins.  There  was,  for  instance, 
the  deception  he  had  practiced  upon  his 
friend,  away  back  in  the  early  days.  Now 
he  had  friends  of  his  own,  and  he  could 
not  keep  these  friends  from  visiting  him; 
and  so  he  was  unquiet  with  the  fear  that 
some  one  of  them  might  play  upon  him  the 
same  vile  trick.  Even  in  the  midst  of  his 
radiant  happiness,  when  he  knew  that 
Henriette  was  hanging  upon  his  every  word, 
trembling  with  delight  when  she  heard  his 
latchkey  in  the  door — still  he  could  not 
drive  away  the  horrible  thought  that  per 
haps  all  this  might  be  deception. 


88  DAMAGED  GOODS 

There  was  his  friend,  Gustave,  for  exam 
ple.  He  had  been  a  friend  of  Henriette's 
before  her  marriage;  he  had  even  been  in 
love  with  her  at  one  time.  And  now  he 
came  sometimes  to  the  house — once  or 
twice  when  George  was  away!  What  did 
that  mean?  George  wondered.  He  brooded 
over  it  all  day,  but  dared  not  drop  any 
hint  to  Henriette.  But  he  took  to  setting 
little  traps  to  catch  her;  for  instance,  he 
would  call  her  up  on  the  telephone,  dis 
guising  his  voice.  "Hello!  hello!  Is  that 
you,  Madame  Dupont?"  And  when  she 
answered,  "It  is  I,  sir,"  all  unsuspecting, 
he  would  inquire,  "Is  George  there?" 

"No,  sir,"  she  replied.  "Who  is  this 
speaking?" 

He  answered,  "It  is  I,  Gustave.  How 
are  you  this  morning?"  He  wanted  to  see 
what  she  would  answer.  Would  she  per 
haps  say,  "Very  well,  Gustave.  How  are 
you?" — in  a  tone  which  would  betray  too 
great  intimacy! 

But  Henriette  was  a  sharp  young  person. 
The  tone  did  not  sound  like  Gustave's. 
She  asked  in  bewilderment,  "What?"  And 
then  again,  "What?" 


DAMAGED  GOODS  89 

So,  at  last,  George,  afraid  that  his  trick 
might  be  suspected,  had  to  burst  out 
laughing,  and  turn  it  into  a  joke.  But 
when  he  came  home  and  teased  his  wife 
about  it,  the  laugh  was  not  all  on  his  side. 
Henriette  had  guessed  the  real  meaning  of 
his  joke!  She  did  not  really  mind — she 
took  his  jealousy  as  a  sign  of  his  love,  and 
was  pleased  with  it.  It  is  not  until  a  third 
party  comes  upon  the  scene  that  jealousy 
begins  to  be  annoying. 

So  she  had  a  merry  time  teasing  George. 
"You  are  a  great  fellow!  You  have  no 
idea  how  well  I  understand  you — and  after 
only  a  year  of  marriage!" 

"You  know  me?"  said  the  husband, 
curiously.  (It  is  always  so  fascinating 
when  anybody  thinks  she  know  us  better 
than  we  know  ourselves!)  "Tell  me, 
what  do  you  think  about  me?" 

"You  are  restless,"  said  Henriette.  " You 
are  suspicious.  You  pass  your  time  putting 
flies  in  your  milk,  and  inventing  wise 
schemes  to  get  them  out." 

"Oh,  you  think  that,  do  you?"  said 
George,  pleased  to  be  talked  about. 


90  DAMAGED   GOODS 

"I  am  not  annoyed,"  she  answered. 
"You  have  always  been  that  way — and  I 
know  that  it's  because  at  bottom  you  are 
timid  and  disposed  to  suffer.  And  then, 
too,  perhaps  you  have  reasons  for  not 
having  confidence  in  a  wife's  intimate 
friends — lady-killer  that  you  are!" 

George  found  this  rather  embarrassing; 
but  he  dared  not  show  it,  so  he  laughed 
gayly.  "I  don't  know  what  you  mean," 
he  said — "upon  my  word  I  don't.  But 
it  is  a  trick  I  would  not  advise  every 
body  to  try."  * 

There  were  other  embarrassing  moments, 
caused  by  George's  having  things  to  con 
ceal.  There  was,  for  instance,  the  matter 
of  the  six  months'  delay  in  the  marriage — 
about  which  Henriette  would  never  stop 
talking.  She  begrudged  the  time,  because 
she  had  got  the  idea  that  little  Gervaise 
was  six  months  younger  than  she  otherwise 
would  have  been.  "That  shows  your 
timidity  again,"  she  would  say.  "The 
idea  of  your  having  imagined  yourself  a 
consumptive!" 

Poor  George  had  to  defend  himself.     "I 


DAMAGED   GOODS  91 

didn't  tell  you  half  the  truth,  because  I 
was  afraid  of  upsetting  you.  It  seemed 
I  had  the  beginning  of  chronic  bronchitis. 
I  felt  it  quite  keenly  whenever  I  took  a 
breath,  a  deep  breath — look,  like  this. 
Yes — I  felt — here  and  there,  on  each  side 
of  the  chest,  a  heaviness — a  difficulty — " 

"The  idea  of  taking  six  months  to  cure 
you  of  a  thing  like  that!"  exclaimed 
Henriette.  "And  making  our  baby  six 
months  younger  than  she  ought  to  be!" 

"But,"  laughed  George,  "that  means 
that  we  shall  have  her  so  much  the  longer! 
She  will  get  married  six  months  later!" 

"Oh,  dear  me,"  responded  the  other, 
"let  us  not  talk  about  such  things!  I 
am  already  worried,  thinking  she  will  get 
married  some  day." 

"For  my  part,"  said  George,  "I  see  my 
self  mounting  with  her  on  my  arm  the 
staircase  of  the  Madeleine." 

"Why  the  Madeleine?"  exclaimed  his 
wife.  "Such  a  very  magnificent  church!" 

"I  don't  know — I  see  her  under  her 
white  veil,  and  myself  all  dressed  up,  and 
with  an  order." 


92  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"With  an  order!"  laughed  Henriette. 
"What  do  you  expect  to  do  to  win  an 
order?" 

"I  don't  know  that — but  I  see  myself 
with  it.  Explain  it  as  you  will,  I  see  my 
self  with  an  order.  I  see  it  all,  exactly 
as  if  I  were  there — the  Swiss  guard  with 
his  white  stockings  and  the  halbard,  and 
the  little  milliner's  assistants  and  the 
scullion  lined  up  staring." 

"It  is  far  off — all  that,"  said  Henriette. 
"I  don't  like  to  talk  of  it.  I  prefer  her 
as  a  baby.  I  want  her  to  grow  up — but 
then  I  change  my  mind  and  think  I  don't. 
I  know  your  mother  doesn't.  Do  you 
know,  I  don't  believe  she  ever  thinks 
about  anything  but  her  little  Gervaise." 

"I  believe  you,"  said  the  father.  "The 
child  can  certainly  boast  of  having  a  grand 
mother  who  loves  her." 

"Also,  I  adore  your  mother,"  declared 
Henriette.  "She  makes  me  forget  my 
misfortune  in  not  having  my  own  mother. 
She  is  so  good!" 

"We  are  all  like  that  in  our  family," 
put  in  George. 


DAMAGED  GOODS  93 

"Really!"  laughed  the  wife.  "Well, 
anyhow — the  last  time  that  we  went  down 
in  the  country  with  her — you  had  gone 
out,  I  don't  know  where  you  had  gone — " 

"To  see  the  sixteenth-century  chest," 
suggested  the  other. 

"Oh,  yes,"  laughed  Henriette;  "your 
famous  chest!"  (You  must  excuse  this 
little  family  chatter  of  theirs — they  were 
so  much  in  love  with  each  other!) 

"Don't  let's  talk  about  that,"  objected 
George.  "You  were  saying — ?" 

"You  were  not  there.  The  nurse  was 
out  at  mass,  I  think — ': 

"Or  at  the  wine  merchant's!  Go  on, 
go  on." 

"Well,  I  was  in  the  little  room,  and 
mother  dear  thought  she  was  all  alone 
with  Gervaise.  I  was  listening;  she  was 
talking  to  the  baby — all  sorts  of  nonsense, 
pretty  little  words — stupid,  if  you  like, 
but  tender.  I  wanted  to  laugh,  and  at 
the  same  time  I  wanted  to  weep." 

"Perhaps  she  called  her  'my  dear  little 
Savior'?" 

"Exactly!     Did  you  hear  her?" 


94  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"No — but  that  is  what  she  used  to  call 
me  when  I  was  little." 

"It  was  that  day  she  swore  that  the 
little  one  had  recognized  her,  and  laughed!" 

"Oh,  yes!" 

"And  then  another  time,  when  I  went 
into  her  room — mother's  room — she  didn't 
hear  me  because  the  door  was  open,  but  I 
saw  her.  She  was  in  ecstasy  before  the 
little  boots  which  the  baby  wore  at  baptism 
—you  know?" 

"Yes,  yes." 

"Listen,  then.  She  had  taken  them 
and  she  was  embracing  them!" 

"And  what  did  you  say  then?" 

"Nothing;  I  stole  out  very  softly,  and 
I  sent  across  the  threshold  a  great  kiss  to 
the  dear  grandmother!" 

Henriette  sat  for  a  moment  in  thought. 
"It  didn't  take  her  very  long,"  she  re 
marked,  "today  when  she  got  the  letter 
from  the  nurse.  I  imagine  that  she  caught 
the  eight-fifty-nine  train!" 

"And  yet,"  laughed  George,  "it  was 
really  nothing  at  all." 

"Oh  no,"  said  his  wife.     "Yet  after  all, 


DAMAGED  GOODS  95 

perhaps  she  was  right — and  perhaps  I 
ought  to  have  gone  with  her." 

"How  charming  you  are,  my  poor  Hen- 
riette!  You  believe  everything  you  are 
told.  I,  for  my  part,  divined  right  away 
the  truth.  The  nurse  was  simply  playing 
a  game  on  us;  she  wanted  a  raise.  Will 
you  bet?  Come,  I'll  bet  you  something. 
What  would  you  like  to  bet?  You  don't 
want  to?  Come,  I'll  bet  you  a  lovely 
necklace — you  know,  with  a  big  pearl." 

"No,"  said  Henriette,  who  had  suddenly 
lost  her  mood  of  gayety.  "I  should  be 
too  much  afraid  of  winning." 

"Stop!"  laughed  her  husband.  "Don't 
you  believe  I  love  her  as  much  as  you 
love  her — my  little  duck?  Do  you  know 
how  old  she  is?  I  mean  her  exact  age?" 

Henriette  sat  knitting  her  brows,  trying 
to  figure. 

"Ah!"  he  exploded.  "You  see  you 
don't  know!  She  is  ninety-one  days  and 
eight  hours!  Ha,  ha!  Imagine  when  she 
will  be  able  to  walk  all  alone.  Then  we  will 
take  her  back  with  us;  we  must  wait  at 
least  six  months.".  Then,  too  late,  poor 


96  DAMAGED  GOODS 

George  realized  that  he  had  spoken  the 
fatal  phrase  again. 

"If  only  you  hadn't  put  off  our  marriage, 
she  would  be  able  to  walk  now,"  said 
Henriette. 

He  rose  suddenly.  "Come,"  he  said, 
"didn't  you  say  you  had  to  dress  and  pay 
some  calls?" 

Henriette  laughed,  but  took  the  hint. 

"Run  along,  little  wife,"  he  said.  "I 
have  a  lot  of  work  to  do  in  the  meantime. 
You  won't  be  down-stairs  before  I  shall 
have  my  nose  buried  in  my  papers.  Bye- 
bye." 

"Bye-bye,"  said  Henriette.  But  they 
paused  to  exchange  a  dozen  or  so  kisses 
before  she  went  away  to  dress. 

Then  George  lighted  a  cigarette  and 
stretched  himself  out  in  the  big  arm 
chair.  He  seemed  restless;  he  seemed  to 
be  disturbed  about  something.  Could  it 
be  that  he  had  not  been  so  much  at  ease  as 
he  had  pretended  to  be,  since  the  letter  had 
come  from  the  baby's  nurse?  Madame 
Dupont  had  gone  by  the  earliest  train 
that  morning.  She  had  promised  to  tele- 


DAMAGED  GOODS  97 

graph  at  once — but  she  had  not  done  so, 
and  now  it  was  late  afternoon. 

George  got  up  and  wandered  about.  He 
looked  at  himself  in  the  glass  for  a  mo 
ment;  then  he  went  back  to  the  chair 
and  pulled  up  another  to  put  his  feet 
upon.  He  puffed  away  at  his  cigarette 
until  he  was  calmer.  But  then  suddenly 
he  heard  the  rustle  of  a  dress  behind  him, 
and  glanced  about,  and  started  up  with  an 
exclamation,  "Mother!" 

Madame  Dupont  stood  in  the  doorway. 
She  did  not  speak.  Her  veil  was  thrown 
back  and  George  noted  instantly  the  look 
of  agitation  upon  her  countenance. 

"What's  the  matter?"  he  cried.  "We 
didn't  get  any  telegram  from  you;  we 
were  not  expecting  you  till  tomorrow." 

Still  his  mother  did  not  speak. 

"Henriette  was  just  going  out,"  he 
exclaimed,  nervously;  "I  had  better  call 
her." 

"No!"  said  his  mother  quickly.  Her 
voice  was  low  and  trembling.  "I  did  not 
want  Henriette  to  be  here  when  I  arrived." 

"But  what's  the  matter?"  cried  George. 


98  DAMAGED  GOODS 

Again  there  was  a  silence  before  the 
reply  came.  He  read  something  terrible 
in  the  mother's  manner,  and  he  found  him 
self  trembling  violently. 

"I  have  brought  back  the  child  and  the 
nurse,"  said  Madame  Dupont. 

"What!    Is  the  little  one  sick?" 

"Yes." 

"What's  the  matter  with  her?" 

"Nothing  dangerous — for  the  moment, 
at  least." 

"We  must  send  and  get  the  doctor!" 
cried  George. 

"I  have  just  come  from  the  doctor's," 
was  the  reply.  "He  sari  it  was  necessary 
to  take  our  child  from  the  nurse  and  bring 
her  up  on  the  bottle." 

Again  there  was  a  pause.  George  could 
hardly  bring  himself  to  ask  the  next 
question.  Try  as  he  would,  he  could 
not  keep  his  voice  from  weakening.  "Well, 
now,  what  is  her  trouble?" 

The  mother  did  not  answer.  She  stood 
staring  before  her.  At  last  she  said, 
faintly,  "I  don't  know." 

"You  didn't  ask?" 


DAMAGED  GOODS  99 

"I  asked.  But  it  was  not  to  our  own 
doctor  that  I  went." 

"Ah!"  whispered  George.  For  nearly 
a  minute  neither  of  them  spoke.  "Why?" 
he  inquired  at  last. 

"Because — he — the  nurse's  doctor — had 
frightened  me  so — " 

"Truly?" 

"Yes.  It  is  a  disease — "  Again  she 
stopped. 

George  cried,  in  a  voice  of  agony,  "And 
then?" 

"Then  I  asked  him  if  the  matter  was  so 
grave  that  I  could  not  be  satisfied  with  our 
ordinary  doctor." 

"And  what  did  he  answer?" 

"He  said  that  if  we  had  the  means 
it  would  really  be  better  to  consult  a 
specialist." 

George  looked  at  his  mother  again.  He 
was  able  to  do  it,  because  she  was  not 
looking  at  him.  He  clenched  his  hands 
and  got  himself  together.  "And — where 
did  he  send  you?" 

His  mother  fumbled  in  her  hand  bag 
and  drew  out  a  visiting  card.  "Here," 
she  said. 


100  DAMAGED  GOODS 

And  George  looked  at  the  card.  It  was 
all  he  could  do  to  keep  himself  from  tot 
tering.  It  was  the  card  of  the  doctor 
whom  he  had  first  consulted  about  his 
trouble !  The  specialist  in  venereal  diseases ! 


CHAPTER  IV 

IT  was  all  George  could  do  to  control 
his  voice.  "You — you  went  to  see 
him?"  he  stammered. 

"Yes,"  said  his  mother.  "You  know 
him?" 

"No,  no,"  he  answered.  "Or — that  is — 
I  have  met  him,  I  think.  I  don't  know." 
And  then  to  himself,  "My  God!" 

There  was  a  silence.  "He  is  coming  to 
talk  to  you,"  said  the  mother,  at  last. 

George  was  hardly  able  to  speak.  "Then 
he  is  very  much  disturbed?" 

"No,  but  he  wants  to  talk  to  you." 

"Tome?" 

"Yes.  When  the  doctor  saw  the  nurse 
he  said,  'Madame,  it  is  impossible  for  me 
to  continue  to  attend  this  child  unless  I 
have  had  this  very  day  a  conversation  with 
the  father.'  So  I  said  'Very  well/  and  he 
said  he  would  come  at  once." 

(101) 


102  DAMAGED  GOODS 

George  turned  away,  and  put  his  hands 
to  his  forehead.  ' '  My  poor  little  daughter !" 
he  whispered  to  himself. 

"Yes,"  said  the  mother,  her  voice  break 
ing,  "she  is,  indeed,  a  poor  little  daughter!" 

A  silence  fell;  for  what  could  words  avail 
in  such  a  situation?  Hearing  the  door  open, 
Madame  Dupont  started,  for  her  nerves 
were  all  a-quiver  with  the  strain  she  had 
been  under.  A  servant  came  in  and  spoke 
to. her,  and  she  said  to  George,  "It  is  the 
doctor.  If  you  need  me,  I  shall  be  in  the 
next  room." 

Her  son  stood  trembling,  as  if  he  were 
waiting  the  approach  of  an  executioner. 
The  other  came  into  the  room  without 
seeing  him  and  he  stood  for  a  minute, 
clasping  and  unclasping  his  hands,  almost 
overcome  with  emotion.  Then  he  said, 
"Good-day,  Doctor."  As  the  man  stared 
at  him,  surprised  and  puzzled,  he  added, 
"You  don't  recognize  me?" 

The  doctor  looked  again,  more  closely. 
George  was  expecting  him  to  break  out  in 
rage ;  but  instead  his  voice  fell  low.  "  You !" 
he  exclaimed.  "It  is  you!" 


DAMAGED  GOODS  103 

At  last,  in  a  voice  rather  of  discourage 
ment  than  of  anger,  he  went  on,  "You  got 
married,  and  you  have  a  child!  After  all 
that  I  told  you!  You  are  a  wretch!" 

"Sir,"  cried  George,  "let  me  explain  to 
you!" 

"Not  a  word!"  exclaimed  the  other. 
"There  can  be  no  explanation  for  what  you 
have  done." 

A  silence  followed.  The  young  man  did 
not  know  what  to  say.  Finally,  stretching 
out  his  arms,  he  pleaded,  "You  will  take 
care  of  my  little  daughter  all  the  same,  will 
you  not?" 

The  other  turned  away  with  a  look  of 
disgust.  "Imbecile!"  he  said. 

George  did  not  hear  the  word.  "I  was 
able  to  wait  only  six  months,"  he  murmured. 

The  doctor  answered  in  a  voice  of  cold 
self -repression,  "That  is  enough,  sir!  All 
that  does  not  concern  me.  I  have  done 
wrong  even  to  let  you  see  my  indignation. 
I  should  have  left  you  to  judge  yourself. 
I  have  nothing  to  do  here  but  with  the 
present  and  with  the  future — with  the 
infant  and  with  the  nurse." 


104  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"She  isn't  in  danger?"  cried  George. 

"The  nurse  is  in  danger  of  being  con 
taminated." 

But  George  had  not  been  thinking  about 
the  nurse.  "I  mean  my  child,"  he  said. 

"Just  at  present  the  symptoms  are  not 
disturbing." 

George  waited;  after  a  while  he  began, 
"You  were  saying  about  the  nurse.  Will 
you  consent  that  I  call  my  mother?  She 
knows  better  than  I." 

"As  you  wish,"  was  the  reply. 

The  young  man  started  to  the  door,  but 
came  back,  in  terrible  distress.  "I  have 
one  prayer  to  offer  you,  sir;  arrange  it 
so  that  my  wife — so  that  no  one  will  know. 
If  my  wife  learned  that  it  is  I  who  am  the 
cause — !  It  is  for  her  that  I  implore  you! 
she — she  isn't  to  blame." 

Said  the  doctor:  "I  will  do  everything 
in  my  power  that  she  may  be  kept  ignorant 
of  the  true  nature  of  the  disease." 

"Oh,  how  I  thank  you!"  murmured 
George.  "How  I  thank  you!" 

"Do  not  thank  me;  it  is  for  her,  and  not 
for  you,  that  I  will  consent  to  lie." 


DAMAGED  GOODS  105 

"And  my  mother?" 

"Your  mother  knows  the  truth." 

"But—" 

"I  pray  you,  sir — we  have  enough  to 
talk  about,  and  very  serious  matters." 

So  George  went  to  the  door  and  called 
his  mother.  She  entered  and  greeted  the 
doctor,  holding  herself  erect,  and  striving 
to  keep  the  signs  of  grief  and  terror  from 
her  face.  She  signed  to  the  doctor  to  take 
a  seat,  and  then  seated  herself  by  a  little 
table  near  him. 

"Madame  Dupont,"  he  began,  "I  have 
prescribed  a  course  of  treatment  for  the 
child.  I  hope  to  be  able  to  improve  its 
condition,  and  to  prevent  any  new  develop 
ments.  But  my  duty  and  yours  does  not 
stop  there;  if  there  is  still  time,  it  is  neces 
sary  to  protect  the  health  of  the  nurse." 

"Tell  us  what  it  is  necessary  to  do, 
Doctor?"  said  she. 

"The  woman  must  stop  nursing  the 
child." 

"You  mean  we  have  to  change  the  nurse?" 

"Madame,  the  child  can  no  longer  be 
brought  up  at  the  breast,  either  by  that 
nurse  or  by  any  other  nurse." 


106  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"  But  why,  sir?" 

"  Because  the  child  would  give  her  disease 
to  the  woman  who  gave  her  milk." 

"But,  Doctor,  if  we  put  her  on  the  bottle 
— our  little  one — she  will  die!" 

And  suddenly  George  burst  into  sobs. 
"Oh,  my  poor  little  daughter!  My  God, 
my  God!" 

Said  the  doctor,  "If  the  feeding  is  well 
attended  to,  with  sterilized  milk — " 

"That  can  do  very  well  for  healthy 
infants,"  broke  in  Madame  Dupont.  "But 
at  the  age  of  three  months  one  cannot  take 
from  the  breast  a  baby  like  ours,  frail  and 
ill.  More  than  any  other  such  an  infant 
has  need  of  a  nurse — is  not  that  true?" 

"Yes,"  the  doctor  admitted,  "that  is 
true.  But—" 

"In  that  case,  between  the  life  of  the 
child,  and  the  health  of  the  nurse,  you 
understand  perfectly  well  that  my  choice 
is  made." 

Between  her  words  the  doctor  heard  the 
sobbing  of  George,  whose  head  was  buried 
in  his  arms.  "Madame,"  he  said,  "your 
love  for  that  baby  has  just  caused  you  to 


DAMAGED  GOODS  107 

utter  something  ferocious!  It  is  not  for 
you  to  choose.  I  forbid  the  nursing.  The 
health  of  that  woman  does  not  belong  to 
you." 

"No,"  -cried  the  grandmother,  wildly, 
"nor  does  the  health  of  our  child  belong 
to  you!  If  there  is  a  hope  of  saving  it, 
that  hope  is  in  giving  it  more  care  than  any 
other  child;  and  you  would  wish  that 
I  put  it  upon  a  mode  of  nourishment  which 
the  doctors  condemn,  even  for  vigorous 
infants!  You  expect  that  I  will  let  myself 
be  taken  in  like  that?  I  answer  you:  she 
shall  have  the  milk  which  she  needs,  my 
poor  little  one!  If  there  was  a  single  thing 
that  one  could  do  to  save  her — I  should 
be  a  criminal  to  neglect  it!"  And  Madame 
Dupont  broke  out,  with  furious  scorn, 
"The  nurse!  the  nurse!  We  shall  know 
how  to  do  our  duty — we  shall  take  care  of 
her,  repay  her.  But  our  child  before  all! 
No  sir,  no!  Everything  that  can  be  done 
to  save  our  baby  I  shall  do,  let  it  cost  what 
it  will.  To  do  what  you  say — you  don't 
realize  it — it  would  be  as  if  I  should  kill 
the  child!"  In  the  end  the  agonized  woman 


108  DAMAGED  GOODS 


burst  into  tears.  "Oh,  my  poor  little 
angel!  My  little  Savior!" 

George  had  never  ceased  sobbing  while 
his  mother  spoke;  at  these  last  words  his 
sobs  became  loud  cries.  He  struck  the 
floor  with  his  foot,  he  tore  his  hair,  as  if  he 
were  suffering  from  violent  physical  pain. 
"Oh,  oh,  oh!"  he  cried.  "My  little  child! 
My  little  child!"  And  then,  in  a  horrified 
whisper  to  himself,  "I  am  a  wretch!  A 
criminal!" 

"Madame,"  said  the  doctor,  "you  must 
calm  yourself;  you  must  both  calm  your 
selves.  You  will  not  help  out  the  situation 
by  lamentations.  You  must  learn  to  take 
it  with  calmness." 

Madame  Dupont  set  her  lips  together, 
and  with  a  painful  effort  recovered  her  self- 
control.  "You  are  right,  sir,"  she  said, 
in  a  low  voice.  "I  ask  your  pardon;  but 
if  you  only  knew  what  that  child  means  to 
me!  I  lost  one  at  that  age.  I  am  an  old 
woman,  I  am  a  widow — I  had  hardly  hoped 
to  live  long  enough  to  be  a  grandmother. 
But,  as  you  say — we  must  be  calm."  She 
turned  to  the  young  man,  "Calm  yourself, 


DAMAGED  GOODS  109 

my  son.  It  is  a  poor  way  to  show  our  love 
for  the  child,  to  abandon  ourselves  to  tears. 
Let  us  talk,  Doctor,  and  seriously — coldly. 
But  I  declare  to  you  that  nothing  will  ever 
induce  me  to  put  the  child  on  the  bottle, 
when  I  know  that  it  might  kill  her.  That 
is  all  I  can  say." 

The  doctor  replied:  "This  isn't  the  first 
time  that  I  find  myself  in  the  present 
situation.  Madame,  I  declare  to  you  that 
always — always,  you  understand — persons 
who  have  rejected  my  advice  have  had 
reason  to  repent  it  cruelly." 

"The  only  thing  of  which  I  should 
repent — "  began  the  other. 

"You  simply  do  not  know,"  interrupted 
the  doctor,  "what  such  a  nurse  is  capable 
of.  You  cannot  imagine  what  bitterness — 
legitimate  bitterness,  you  understand — 
joined  to  the  rapacity,  the  cupidity,  the 
mischief-making  impulse — might  inspire 
these  people  to  do.  For  them  the  bourgeois 
is  always  somewhat  of  an  enemy;  and 
when  they  find  themselves  in  position  to 
avenge  their  inferiority,  they  are  ferocious." 

"But  what  could  the  woman  do?" 


110  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"What  could  she  do?  She  could  bring 
legal  proceedings  against  you." 

"But  she  is  much  too  stupid  to  have  that 
idea." 

"Others  will  put  it  into  her  mind." 

"She  is  too  poor  to  pay  the  preliminary 
expenses." 

"And  do  you  propose  then  to  profit  by 
her  ignorance  and  stupidity?  Besides,  she 
could  obtain  judicial  assistance." 

"Why  surely,"  exclaimed  Madame 
Dupont,  "such  a  thing  was  never  heard 
of!  Do  you  mean  that?" 

"I  know  a  dozen  prosecutions  of  that 
sort;  and  always  when  there  has  been 
certainty,  the  parents  have  lost  their  case." 

"But  surely,  Doctor,  you  must  be  mis 
taken!  Not  in  a  case  like  ours — not  when 
it  is  a  question  of  saving  the  life  of  a  poor 
little  innocent!" 

"Oftentimes  exactly  such  facts  have 
been  presented." 

Here  George  broke  in.  "I  can  give  you 
the  dates  of  the  decisions."  He  rose  from 
his  chair,  glad  of  an  opportunity  to  be 
useful.  "I  have  the  books,"  he  said,  and 


DAMAGED  GOODS  111 

took  one  from  the  case  and  brought  it  to 
the  doctor. 

"All  that  is  of  no  use — "  interposed  the 
mother. 

But  the  doctor  said  to  George,  "You 
will  be  able  to  convince  yourself.  The 
parents  have  been  forced  once  or  twice 
to  pay  the  nurse  a  regular  income,  and  at 
other  times  they  have  had  to  pay  her  an 
indemnity,  of  which  the  figure  has  varied 
between  three  and  eight  thousand  francs." 

Madame  Dupont  was  ready  with  a  reply 
to  this.  "Never  fear,  sir!  If  there  should 
be  a  suit,  we  should  have  a  good  lawyer. 
We  shall  be  able  to  pay  and  choose  the 
best — and  he  would  demand,  without  doubt, 
which  of  the  two,  the  nurse  or  the  child, 
has  given  the  disease  to  the  other." 

The  doctor  was  staring  at  her  in  horror. 
"Do  you  not  perceive  that  that  would  be  a 
monstrous  thing  to  do?" 

"Oh,  I  would  not  have  to  say  it,"  was 
the  reply.  "The  lawyer  would  see  to  it — 
is  not  that  his  profession?  My  point  is 
this:  by  one  means  or  another  he  would 
make  us  win  our  case." 


112  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"And  the  scandal  that  would  result," 
replied  the  other.  "Have  you  thought 
of  that?" 

Here  George,  who  had  been  looking  over 
his  law-books,  broke  in.  "Doctor,  permit 
me  to  give  you  a  little  information.  In 
cases  of  this  sort,  the  names  are  never 
printed." 

"Yes,"  said  the  other,  "but  they  are 
spoken  at  the  hearings." 

"That's  true." 

"And  are  you  certain  that  there  will  not 
be  any  newspaper  to  print  the  judg 
ment?" 

"What  won't  they  stoop  to,"  exclaimed 
Madame  Dupont — "those  filthy  journals!" 

"Ah,"  said  the  other,  "and  see  what  a 
scandal?  What  a  shame  it  would  be  to 
you!" 

"The  doctor  is  right,  mother,"  exclaimed 
the  young  man. 

But  Madame  Dupont  was  not  yet  con 
vinced.  "We  will  prevent  the  woman  from 
taking  any  steps;  we  will  give  her  what  she 
demands  from  us." 

"But  then,"  said  the  other,  "you  will 


DAMAGED  GOODS  113 

give  yourselves  up  to  the  risk  of  blackmail. 
I  know  a  family  which  has  been  thus  held 
up  for  over  twelve  years." 

"If  you  will  permit  me,  Doctor/'  said 
George,  timidly,  "she  could  be  made  to 
sign  a  receipt." 

"For  payment  in  full?"  asked  the  doctor, 
scornfully. 

"Even  so." 

"And  then,"  added  his  mother,  "she 
would  be  more  than  delighted  to  go  back 
to  her  country  with  a  full  purse.  She  would 
be  able  to  buy  a  little  house  and  a  bit  of 
ground — in  that  country  one  doesn't  need 
so  much  in  order  to  live." 

At  this  moment  there  was  a  tap  upon 
the  door,  and  the  nurse  entered.  She  was 
a  country  woman,  robust,  rosy-cheeked, 
fairly  bursting  with  health.  When  she 
spoke  one  got  the  impression  that  her  voice 
was  more  than  she  could  contain.  It  did 
not  belong  in  a  drawing-room,  but  under 
the  open  sky  of  her  country  home.  "Sir," 
she  said,  addressing  the  doctor,  "the  baby 
is  awake." 

"I  will  go  and  see  her,"  was  the  reply; 


114  DAMAGED  GOODS 

and  then  to  Madame  Dupont,  "We  will 
take  up  this  conversation  later  on." 

' '  Certainly, ' '  said  the  mother.  ' '  Will  you 
have  need  of  the  nurse?" 

"No,  madame,"  the  doctor  answered. 

"Nurse,"  said  the  mother,  "sit  down  and 
rest.  Wait  a  minute,  I  wish  to  speak  to 
you."  As  the  doctor  went  out,  she  took 
her  son  to  one  side  and  whispered  to  him, 
"I  know  the  way  to  arrange  everything. 
If  we  let  her  know  what  is  the  matter,  and 
if  she  accepts,  the  doctor  will  have  nothing 
more  to  say.  Isn't  that  so?" 

"Obviously,"  replied  the  son. 

"I  am  going  to  promise  that  we  will 
give  her  two  thousand  francs  when  she 
goes  away,  if  she  will  consent  to  continue 
nursing  the  child." 

"Two  thousand  francs?"  said  the  other. 
"Is  that  enough?" 

"I  will  see,"  was  the  reply.  "If  she 
hesitates,  I  will  go  further.  Let  me  attend 
to  it." 

George  nodded  his  assent,  and  Madame 
Dupont  returned  to  the  nurse.  "You 
know,"  she  said,  "that  our  child  is  a  little 
sick?" 


DAMAGED  GOODS  115 

The  other  looked  at  her  in  surprise. 
"Why  no,  ma'am!" 

"Yes,"  said  the  grandmother. 

"But,  ma'am,  I  have  taken  the  best  of 
care  of  her;  I  have  always  kept  her  proper." 

"I  am  not  saying  anything  to  the 
contrary,"  said  Madame  Dupont,  "but  the 
child  is  sick,  the  doctors  have  said  it." 

The  nurse  was  not  to  be  persuaded;  she 
thought  they  were  getting  ready  to  scold 
her.  "Humph,"  she  said,  "that's  a  fine 
thing — the  doctors!  If  they  couldn't 
always  find  something  wrong  you'd  say 
they  didn't  know  their  business." 

"But  our  doctor  is  a  great  doctor;  and 
you  have  seen  yourself  that  our  child  has 
some  little  pimples." 

"Ah,  ma'am,"  said  the  nurse,  "that's 
the  heat — it's  nothing  but  the  heat  of  the 
blood  breaking  out.  You  don't  need  to 
bother  yourself;  I  tell  you  it's  only  the 
child's  blood.  It's  not  my  fault;  I  swear 
to  you  that  she  has  not  lacked  anything, 
and  that  I  have  always  kept  her  proper." 

"I  am  not  reproaching  you — " 

"What  is  there  to  reproach  me  for?    Oh, 


116  DAMAGED  GOODS 

what  bad  luck!  She's  tiny — the  little 
one — she's  a  bit  feeble;  but  Lord  save  us, 
she's  a  city  child!  And  she's  getting  along 
all  right,  I  tell  you." 

"No,"  persisted  Madame  Dupont,  "I  tell 
you — she  has  got  a  cold  in  her  head,  and 
she  has  an  eruption  at  the  back  of  the 
throat." 

"Well,"  cried  the  nurse,  angrily,  "if 
she  has,  it's  because  the  doctor  scratched 
her  with  that  spoon  he  put  into  her  mouth 
wrong  end  first !  A  cold  in  the  head?  Yes, 
that's  true;  but  if  she  has  caught  cold,  I 
can't  say  when,  I  don't  know  anything 
about  it — nothing,  nothing  at  all.  I  have 
always  kept  her  well  covered;  she's  always 
had  as  much  as  three  covers  on  her.  The 
truth  is,  it  was  when  you  came,  the  tune 
before  last;  you  were  all  the  time  insisting 
upon  opening  the  windows  in  the  house!" 

"But  once  more  I  tell  you,"  cried  Madame 
Dupont,  "we  are  not  putting  any  blame 
on  you." 

"Yes,"  cried  the  woman,  more  vehe 
mently.  "I  know  what  that  kind  of  talk 
means.  It's  no  use — when  you're  a  poor 
country  woman." 


DAMAGED  GOODS  117 

"What  are  you  imagining  now?"  de 
manded  the  other. 

"Oh,  that's  all  right.  It's  no  use  when 
you're  a  poor  country  woman." 

"I  repeat  to  you  once  more,"  cried 
Madame  Dupont,  with  difficulty  controlling 
her  impatience,  "we  have  nothing  whatever 
to  blame  you  for." 

But  the  nurse  began  to  weep.  "If  I 
had  known  that  anything  like  this  was 
coming  to  me — " 

"We  have  nothing  to  blame  you  for," 
declared  the  other.  We  only  wish  to  warn 
you  that  you  might  possibly  catch  the 
disease  of  the  child." 

The  woman  pouted.  "A  cold  in  the 
head!"  she  exclaimed.  "Well,  if  I  catch 
it,  it  won't  be  the  first  time.  I  know  how 
to  blow  my  nose." 

"But  you  might  also  get  the  pimples." 

At  this  the  nurse  burst  into  laughter  so 
loud  that  the  bric-a-brac  rattled.  "Oh, 
oh,  oh!  Dear  lady,  let  me  tell  you,  we 
ain't  city  folks,  we  ain't;  we  don't  have  such 
soft  skins.  What  sort  of  talk  is  that? 
Pimples — what  difference  would  that  make 


118  DAMAGED   GOODS 

to  poor  folks  like  us?  We  don't  have  a 
white  complexion  like  the  ladies  of  Paris. 
We  are  out  all  day  in  the  fields,  in  the  sun 
and  the  rain,  instead  of  rubbing  cold  cream 
on  our  muzzles!  No  offense,  ma'am — but 
I  say  if  you're  looking  for  an  excuse  to  get 
rid  of  me,  you  must  get  a  better  one  than 
that." 

"Excuse!"  exclaimed  the  other.  "What 
in  the  world  do  you  mean?" 

"Oh,  I  know!"  said  the  nurse,  nodding 
her  head. 

"But  speak!" 

"It's  no  use,  when  you're  only  a  poor 
country  woman." 

"I  don't  understand  you!  I  swear  to 
you  that  I  don't  understand  you!" 

"Well,"  sneered  the  other,  "/  under 
stand." 

"But  then — explain  yourself." 

"No,  I  don't  want  to  say  it." 

"But  you  must;  I  wish  it." 

"Well—  " 

"Go  ahead." 

"I'm  only  a  poor  country  woman,  but 
I  am  no  more  stupid  than  the  others,  for 


DAMAGED  GOODS  119 

all  that.  I  know  perfectly  well  what  your 
tricks  mean.  Mr.  George  here  has  been 
grumbling  because  you  promised  me  thirty 
francs  more  a  month,  if  I  came  to  Paris." 
And  then,  turning  upon  the  other,  she  went 
on — "But,  sir,  isn't  it  only  natural?  Don't 
I  have  to  put  my  own  child  away  some- 
wheres  else?  And  then,  can  my  husband 
live  on  his  appetite?  We're  nothing  but 
poor  country  people,  we  are." 

"You  are  making  a  mistake,  nurse," 
broke  in  George.  "It  is  nothing  at  all 
of  that  sort;  mother  is  quite  right.  I  am 
so  far  from  wanting  to  reproach  you,  that, 
on  the  contrary,  I  think  she  has  not  prom 
ised  enough,  and  I  want  to  make  you,  for 
my  part,  another  promise.  When  you  go 
away,  when  baby  is  old  enough  to  be 
weaned,  by  way  of  thanking  you,  we  wish 
to  give  you — " 

Madame  Dupont  broke  in,  hurriedly, 
"We  wish  to  give  you, — over  and  above 
your  wages,  you  understand — we  wish  to 
give  you  five  hundred  francs,  and  perhaps 
a  thousand,  if  the  little  one  is  altogether  in 
good  health.  You  understand?" 


120  DAMAGED  GOODS 

The  nurse  stared  at  her,  stupefied. 
"You  will  give  me  five  hundred  francs — 
for  myself?  For  myself."  She  sought  to 
comprehend  the  words.  "But  that  was 
not  agreed,  you  don't  have  to  do  that  at 
all." 

"No,"  admitted  Madame  Dupont. 

"But  then,"  whispered  the  nurse,  half 
to  herself,  "that's  not  natural." 

"Yes,"  the  other  hurried  on,  "it  is  be 
cause  the  baby  will  have  need  of  extra 
care.  You  will  have  to  take  more  trouble; 
you  will  have  to  give  it  medicines;  your 
task  will  be  a  little  more  delicate,  a  little 
more  difficult." 

"Oh,  yes;  then  it's  so  that  I  will  be  sure 
to  take  good  care  of  her?  I  understand." 

"Then  it's  agreed?"  exclaimed  Madame 
Dupont,  with  relief. 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  said  the  nurse. 

"And  you  won't  come  later  on  to  make 
reproaches  to  us?  We  understand  one 
another  clearly?  We  have  warned  you 
that  the  child  is  sick,  and  that  you  could 
catch  the  disease.  Because  of  that,  because 
of  the  special  need  of  care  which  she  has, 


DAMAGED   GOODS  121 

we  promise  you  five  hundred  francs  at  the 
end  of  the  nursing.  That's  all  right,  is  it?'7 

"But,  my  lady,"  cried  the  nurse,  all  her 
cupidity  awakened,  "you  spoke  just  now 
of  a  thousand  francs." 

"Very  well,- then,  a  thousand  francs." 

George  passed  behind  the  nurse  and  got 
his  mother  by  the  arm,  drawing  her  to 
one  side.  "It  would  be  a  mistake,"  he 
whispered,  "if  we  did  not  make  her  sign 
an  agreement  to  all  that." 

His  mother  turned  to  the  nurse.  "In 
order  that  there  may  be  no  misunder 
standing  about  the  sum — you  see  how  it  is, 
I  had  forgotten  already  that  I  had  spoken 
of  a  thousand  francs — we  will  draw  up  a 
little  paper,  and  you,  on  your  part,  will 
write  one  for  us." 

"Very  good,  ma'am,"  said  the  nurse, 
delighted  with  the  idea  of  so  important  a 
transaction.  "Why,  it's  just  as  you  do 
when  you  rent  a  house!" 

"Here  comes  the  doctor,"  said  the  other. 
"Come,  nurse,  it  is  agreed?" 

"Yes,  ma'am,"  was  the  answer.  But 
all  the  same,  as  she  went  out  she  hesitated 


122  DAMAGED  GOODS 

and  looked  sharply  first  at  the  doctor,  and 
then  at  George  and  his  mother.  She 
suspected  that  something  was  wrong,  and 
she  meant  to  find  out  if  she  could. 

The  doctor  seated  himself  in  George's 
office  chair,  as  if  to  write  a  prescription. 
"The  child's  condition  remains  the  same," 
he  said;  "nothing  disturbing." 

"Doctor,"  said  Madame  Dupont,  gravely, 
"from  now  on,  you  will  be  able  to  devote 
your  attention  to  the  baby  and  the  nurse 
without  any  scruple.  During  your  absence 
we  have  arranged  matters  nicely.  The 
nurse  has  been  informed  about  the  situation, 
and  she  does  not  mind.  She  has  agreed 
to  accept  an  indemnity,  and  the  amount 
has  been  stated." 

But  the  doctor  did  not  take  these  tidings 
as  the  other  had  hoped  he  might.  He 
replied:  "The  malady  which  the  nurse 
will  almost  inevitably  contract  in  feeding 
the  child  is  too  grave  in  its  consequences. 
Such  consequences  might  go  as  far  as 
complete  helplessness,  even  as  far  as  death. 
So  I  say  that  the  indemnity,  whatever  it 
might  be,  would  not  pay  the  damage." 


DAMAGED  GOODS  123 

"But,"  exclaimed  the  other,  "she  accepts 
it!  She  is  mistress  of  herself,  and  she  has 
the  right—" 

"I  am  not  at  all  certain  that  she  has  the 
right  to  sell  her  own  health.  And  I  am 
certain  that  she  has  not  the  right  to  sell 
the  health  of  her  husband  and  her  children. 
If  she  becomes  infected,  it  is  nearly  certain 
that  she  will  communicate  the  disease  to 
them;  the  health  and  the  life  of  the  children 
she  might  have  later  on  would  be  greatly 
compromised.  Such  things  she  cannot 
possibly  sell.  Come,  madame,  you  must 
see  that  a  bargain  of  this  sort  isn't  possible. 
If  the  evil  has  not  been  done,  you  must 
do  everything  to  avoid  it." 

"Sir,"  protested  the  mother,  wildly,  "you 
do  not  defend  our  interests!" 

"Madame,"  was  the  reply,  "I  defend 
those  who  are  weakest." 

"If  we  had  called  in  our  own  physician, 
who  knows  us,"  she  protested,  "he  would 
have  taken  sides  with  us." 

The  doctor  rose,  with  a  severe  look  on 
his  face.  "I  doubt  it,"  he  said,  "but  there 
is  still  time  to  call  him." 


124  DAMAGED  GOODS 

George  broke  in  with  a  cry  of  distress. 
"Sir,  I  implore  you!" 

And  the  mother  in  turn  cried.  "Don't 
abandon  us,  sir!  You  ought  to  make 
allowances!  If  you  knew  what  that  child 
is  to  me!  I  tell  you  it  seems  to  me  as  if  I 
had  waited  for  her  coming  in  order  to  die. 
Have  pity  upon  us!  Have  pity  upon  her! 
You  speak  of  the  weakest — it  is  not  she 
who  is  the  weakest?  You  have  seen  her, 
you  have  seen  that  poor  little  baby,  so 
emaciated!  You  have  seen  what  a  heap 
of  suffering  she  is  already;  and  cannot  that 
inspire  in  you  any  sympathy?  I  pray  you, 
sir — I  pray  you!" 

"I  pity  her,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  would 
like  to  save  her — and  I  will  do  everything 
for  her.  But  do  not  ask  me  to  sacrifice 
to  a  feeble  infant,  with  an  uncertain  and 
probably  unhappy  life,  the  health  of  a 
sound  and  robust  woman.  It  is  useless 
for  us  to  continue  such  a  discussion  as 
that." 

Whereupon  Madame  Dupont  leaped  up 
in  sudden  frenzy.  "Very  well!"  she  ex 
claimed.  "I  will  not  follow  your  counsels, 
I  will  not  listen  to  you!" 


DAMAGED  GOODS  125 

Said  the  doctor,  in  a  solemn  voice: 
"There  is  already  some  one  here  who 
regrets  that  he  did  not  listen  to  me." 

"Yes,"  moaned  George,  "to  my  mis 
fortune,  to  the  misfortune  of  all  of  us." 

But  Madame  Dupont  was  quite  beside 
herself.  "Very  well!"  she  cried.  "If 
it  is  a  fault,  if  it  is  a  crime,  if  I  shall  have 
to  suffer  remorse  for  it  in  this  life,  and  all 
the  punishments  in  the  life  to  come — I 
accept  it  all  for  myself  alone!  Myself 
alone,  I  take  that  responsibility!  It  is 
frightfully  heavy,  but  I  accept  it.  I  am 
profoundly  a  Christian,  sir;  I  believe  in 
eternal  damnation;  but  to  save  my  little 
child  I  consent  to  lose  my  soul  forever. 
Yes,  my  mind  is  made  up — I  will  do  every 
thing  to  save  that  life!  Let  God  judge  me; 
and  if  he  condemns  me,  so  much  the  worse 
for  me!" 

The  doctor  answered:  "That  responsi 
bility  is  one  which  I  cannot  let  you  take, 
for  it  will  be  necessary  that  I  should  accept 
my  part,  and  I  refuse  it." 

"What  will  you  do?" 

"I  shall  warn  the  nurse.     I  shall  inform 


126  DAMAGED  GOODS 

her  exactly,  completely — something  which 
you  have  not  done,  I  feel  sure." 

"What?"  cried  Madame  Dupont,  wildly. 
"You,  a  doctor,  called  into  a  family  which 
gives  you  its  entire  confidence,  which  hands 
over  to  you  its  most  terrible  secrets,  its 
most  horrible  miseries — you  would  betray 
them?" 

"It  is  not  a  betrayal/'  replied  the  man, 
sternly.  "It  is  something  which  the  law 
commands;  and  even  if  the  law  were 
silent,  I  would  not  permit  a  family  of  worthy 
people  to  go  astray  so  far  as  to  commit  a 
crime.  Either  I  give  up  the  case,  or  you 
have  the  nursing  of  the  child  stopped." 

"You  threaten!  You  threaten!"  cried 
the  woman,  almost  frantic.  "You  abuse 
the  power  which  your  knowledge  gives 
you!  You  know  that  it  is  you  whose 
attention  we  need  by  that  little  cradle; 
you  know  that  we  believe  in  you,  and  you 
threaten  to  abandon  us!  Your  abandon 
ment  means  the  death  of  the  child,  perhaps ! 
And  if  I  listen  to  you,  if  we  stop  the  nursing 
of  the  child — that  also  means  her  death!" 

She    flung   up   her    hands    like    a   mad 


DAMAGED   GOODS  127 

creature.  "And  yet  there  is  no  other 
means!  Ah,  my  God!  why  do  you  not  let 
it  be  possible  for  me  to  sacrifice  myself? 
I  would  wish  nothing  more  than  to  be  able 
to  do  it — if  only  you  might  take  my  old 
body,  my  old  flesh,  my  old  bones — if  only 
I  might  serve  for  something!  How  quickly 
would  I  consent  that  it  should  infect  me — 
this  atrocious  malady!  How  I  would  offer 
myself  to  it — with  what  joys,  with  what 
delights — however  disgusting,  however 
frightful  it  might  be,  however  much  to  be 
dreaded!  Yes,  I  would  take  it  without 
fear,  without  regret,  if  my  poor  old  empty 
breasts  might  still  give  to  the  child  the 
milk  which  would  preserve  its  life!" 

She  stopped;  and  George  sprang  suddenly 
from  his  seat,  and  fled  to  her  and  flung 
himself  down  upon  his  knees  before  her, 
mingling  his  sobs  and  tears  with  hers. 

The  doctor  rose  and  moved  about  the 
room,  unable  any  longer  to  control  his 
distress.  "Oh,  the  poor  people!"  he  mur 
mured  to  himself.  "The  poor,  poor 
people!" 

The  storm  passed,  and  Madame  Dupont, 


128  DAMAGED  GOODS 

who  was  a  woman  of  strong  character,  got 
herself  together.  Facing  the  doctor  again, 
she  said,  "Come,  sir,  tell  us  what  we  have 
to  do." 

"You  must  stop  the  nursing,  and  keep 
the  woman  here  as  a  dry  nurse,  in  order 
that  she  may  not  go  away  to  carry  the 
disease  elsewhere.  Do  not  exaggerate  to 
yourself  the  danger  which  will  result  to 
the  child.  I  am,  in  truth,  extremely 
moved  by  your  suffering,  and  I  will  do 
everything — I  swear  it  to  you — that  your 
baby  may  recover  as  quickly  as  possible 
its  perfect  health.  I  hope  to  succeed,  and 
that  soon.  And  now  I  must  leave  you 
until  tomorrow." 

"Thank  you,  Doctor,  thank  you,"  said 
Madame  Dupont,  faintly. 

The  young  man  rose  and  accompanied 
the  doctor  to  the  door.  He  could  not  bring 
himself  to  speak,  but  stood  hanging  his 
head  until  the  other  was  gone.  Then  he 
came  to  his  mother.  He  sought  to  embrace 
her,  but  she  repelled  him — without  violence, 
but  firmly. 

Her  son  stepped  back  and  put  his  hands 
over  his  face.  "Forgive  me!"  he  said, 


DAMAGED  GOODS  129 

in  a  broken  voice.  "Are  we  not  unhappy 
enough,  without  hating  each  other?" 

His  mother  answered:  "God  has  pun 
ished  you  for  your  debauch  by  striking  at 
your  child." 

But,  grief -stricken  as  the  young  man  was, 
he  could  not  believe  that.  "Impossible!" 
he  said.  "There  is  not  even  a  man  suffi 
ciently  wicked  or  unjust  to  commit  the  act 
which  you  attribute  to  your  God!" 

"Yes,"  said  his  mother,  sadly,  "you 
believe  in  nothing." 

"I  believe  hi  no  such  God  as  that,"  he 
answered. 

A  silence  followed.  When  it  was  broken, 
it  was  by  the  entrance  of  the  nurse.  She 
had  opened  the  door  of  the  room  and  had 
been  standing  there  for  some  moments, 
unheeded.  Finally  she  stepped  forward. 
"Madame,"  she  said,  "I  have  thought  it 
over;  I  would  rather  go  back  to  my  home 
at  once,  and  have  only  the  five  hundred 
francs."  ^ 

Madame  Dupont  stared  at  her  in  con 
sternation.  "What  is  that  you  are  saying? 
You  want  to  return  to  your  home?" 


130  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"Yes,  ma'am/'  was  the  answer. 

"But,"  cried  George,  "only  ten  minutes 
ago  you  were  not  thinking  of  it." 

"What  has  happened  since  then?"  de 
manded  Madame  Dupont. 

"I  have  thought  it  over." 

"Thought  what  over?" 

"Well,  I  am  getting  lonesome  for  my 
little  one  and  for  my  husband." 

"In  the  last  ten  minutes?"  exclaimed 
George. 

"There  must  be  something  else,"  his 
mother  added.  "Evidently  there  must  be 
something  else." 

"No!"  insisted  the  nurse. 

"But  I  say  yes!" 

"Well,  I'm  afraid  the  air  of  Paris  might 
not  be  good  for  me." 

"You  had  better  wait  and  try  it."    , 

"I  would  rather  go  back  at  once  to  my 
home." 

"Come,  now,"  cried  Madame  Dupont, 
"tell  us  why?"' 

"I  have  told  you.     I  have  thought  it 


over." 


Thought  what  over?" 


DAMAGED  GOODS  131 

"Well,  I  have  thought." 

"Oh,"  cried  the  mother,  "what  a  stupid 
reply!  'I  have  thought  it  over!  I  have 
thought  it  over!'  Thought  what  over,  I 
want  to  know?" 

"Well,  everything." 

"Don't  you  know  how  to  tell  us  what?" 

"I  tell  you,  everything." 

"Why,"  exclaimed  Madame  Dupont, 
"you  are  an  imbecile!" 

George  stepped  between  his  mother  and 
the  nurse.  "Let  me  talk  to  her,"  he  said. 

The  woman  came  back  to  her  old  formula: 
"I  know  that  we're  only  poor  country 
people." 

"Listen  to  me,  nurse,"  said  the  young 
man.  "Only  a  little  while  ago  you  were 
afraid  that  we  would  send  you  away.  You 
were  satisfied  with  the  wages  which  my 
mother  had  fixed.  In  addition  to  those 
wages  we  had  promised  you  a  good  sum 
when  you  returned  to  your  home.  Now 
you  tell  us  that  you  want  to  go  away. 
You  see?  All  at  once.  There  must  be 
some  reason;  let  us  understand  it.  There 
must  certainly  be  a  reason.  Has  anybody 
done  anything  to  you?" 


132  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"No,  sir,"  said  the  woman,  dropping  her 
eyes. 

"Well,  then?" 

"I  have  thought  it  over." 

George  burst  out,  "Don't  go  on  repeating 
always  the  same  thing — 'I  have  thought 
it  over!'  That's  not  telling  us  anything." 
Controlling  himself,  he  added,  gently, 
"Come,  tell  me  why  you  want  to  go  away?" 

There  was  a  silence.  "Well?"  he 
demanded. 

"I  tell  you,"  said  the  woman,  "I  have 
thought—" 

George  exclaimed  in  despair,  "It's  as  if 
one  were  talking  to  a  block  of  wood!" 

His  mother  took  up  the  conversation 
again.  "You  must  realize,  you  have  not 
the  right  to  go  away." 

The  woman  answered,  "I  want  to  go." 

"But  I  will  not  let  you  leave  us." 

"No,"  interrupted  George  angrily,  "let 
her  go;  we  cannot  fasten  her  here." 

"Very  well,  then,"  cried  the  exasperated 
mother,  "since  you  want  to  go,  go!  But 
I  have  certainly  the  right  to  say  to  you  that 
you  are  as  stupid  as  the  animals  on  your 
farm!" 


DAMAGED  GOODS  133 

"I  don't  say  that  I  am  not,"  answered 
the  woman. 

"I  will  not  pay  you  the  month  which  has 
just  begun,  and  you  will  pay  your  railroad 
fare  for  yourself." 

The  other  drew  back  with  a  look  of 
anger.  "Oho!"  she  cried.  "We'll  see 
about  that!" 

"Yes,  we'll  see  about  it!"  cried  George. 
"And  you  will  get  out  of  here  at  once. 
Take  yourself  off — I  will  have  no  more 
to  do  with  you.  Good  evening." 

"No,  George,"  protested  his  mother, 
"don't  lose  control  of  yourself."  And 
then,  with  a  great  effort  at  calmness, 
"That  cannot  be  serious,  nurse!  Answer 


me." 


"I  would  rather  go  off  right  away  to  my 
home,  and  only  have  my  five  hundred 
francs." 

"What?"  cried  George,  in  consternation. 

"What's  that  you  are  telling  me?"  ex 
claimed  Madame  Dupont. 

"Five  hundred  francs?"  repeated  her 
son. 

"What  five  hundred  francs?"  echoed 
the  mother. 


134  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"The  five  hundred  francs  you  promised 
me,"  said  the  nurse. 

"We  have  promised  you  five  hundred 
francs?  We?" 

"Yes." 

"When  the  child  should  be  weaned,  and 
if  we  should  be  satisfied  with  you!  That 
was  our  promise." 

"No.  You  said  you  would  give  them  to 
me  when  I  was  leaving.  Now  I  am  leaving, 
and  I  want  them." 

Madame  Dupont  drew  herself  up,  haugh 
tily.  "In  the  first  place,"  she  said,  "kindly 
oblige  me  by  speaking  to  me  in  another 
tone;  do  you  understand?" 

The  woman  answered,  "You  have  nothing 
to  do  but  to  give  me  my  money,  and  I  will 
say  nothing  more." 

George  went  almost  beside  himself  with 
rage  at  this.  "Oh,  it's  like  that?"  he 
shouted.  "Very  well;  I'll  show  you  the 
door  myself!  Go  along  with  you!"  And 
he  sprang  to  the  door  and  opened  it. 

But  the  nurse  never  budged.  "Give  me 
my  five  hundred  francs!"  she  said. 

George  seized  her  by  the  arm  and  shoved 


DAMAGED  GOODS  135 

her  toward  the  door.  "You  clear  out  of 
here,  do  you  understand  me?  And  as 
quickly  as  you  can!" 

The  woman  shook  her  arm  loose,  and 
sneered  into  his  face.  "Come  now,  you — 
you  can  talk  to  me  a  little  more  politely, 
eh?" 

"Will  you  go?"  shouted  George,  com 
pletely  beside  himself.  "Will  you  go,  or 
must  I  go  out  and  look  for  a  policeman?" 

"A  policeman!"  demanded  the  woman. 
"For  what?" 

"To  put  you  outside!  You  are  behaving 
yourself  like  a  thief." 

"A  thief?    I?    What  do  you  mean?" 

"I  mean  that  you  are  demanding  money 
which  doesn't  belong  to  you." 

"More  than  that,"  broke  in  Madame 
Dupont,  "you  are  destroying  that  poor  little 
baby!  You  are  a  wicked  woman!" 

"I  will  put  you  out.  myself!"  shouted 
George,  and  seized  her  by  the  arm  again. 

"Oh,  it's  like  that,  is  it?"  retorted  the 
nurse.  "Then  you  really  want  me  to  tell 
you  why  I  am  going  away?" 

"Yes,  tell  me!"  cried  he. 


136  DAMAGED  GOODS 

His  mother  added,  "Yes,  yes!" 

She  would  have  spoken  differently  had 
she  chanced  to  look  behind  her  and  seen 
Henriette,  who  at  that  moment  appeared 
hi  the  doorway.  She  had  been  about  to  go 
out,  when  her  attention  had  been  caught 
by  the  loud  voices.  She  stood  now, 
amazed,  clasping  her  hands  together,  while 
the  nurse,  shaking  her  fist  first  at  Madame 
Dupont  and  then  at  her  son,  cried  loudly, 
"Very  well!  I'm  going  away  because  I 
don't  want  to  catch  a  filthy  disease  here!" 

"Hush!"  cried  Madame  Dupont,  and 
sprang  toward  her,  her  hands  clenched  as 
if  she  would  choke  her. 

"Be  silent!"  cried  George,  wild  with 
terror. 

But  the  woman  rushed  on  without  drop 
ping  her  voice,  "Oh,  you  need  not  be  trou 
bling  yourselves  for  fear  anyone  should 
overhear!  All  the  world  knows  it!  Your 
other  servants  were  listening  with  me  at 
your  door!  They  heard  every  word  your 
doctor  said!" 

"Shut  up!"  screamed  George. 

His  mother  seized  the  woman  fiercely 


DAMAGED   GOODS  137 

by  the  arm.  "Hold  your  tongue!"  she 
hissed. 

But  again  the  other  shook  herself  loose. 
She  was  powerful,  and  now  her  rage  was 
not  to  be  controlled.  She  waved  her  hands 
in  the  air,  shouting,  "Let  me  be,  let  me  be! 
I  know  all  about  your  brat — that  you  will 
never  be  able  to  raise  it — that  it's  rotten 
because  it's  father  has  a  filthy  disease  he 
got  from  a  woman  of  the  street!" 

She  got  no  farther.  She  was  interrupted 
by  a  frenzied  shriek  from  Henriette.  The 
three  turned,  horrified,  just  in  time  to  see 
her  fall  forward  upon  the  floor,  convulsed. 

"My  God!"  cried  George.  He  sprang 
toward  her,  and  tried  to  lift  her,  but  she 
shrank  from  him,  repelling  him  with  a 
gesture  of  disgust,  of  hatred,  of  the  most 
profound  terror.  "Don't  touch  me!"  she 
screamed,  like  a  maniac.  "Don't  touch 
me!" 


CHAPTER  V 

IT  was  in  vain  that  Madame  Dupont 
sought  to  control  her  daughter-in-law. 
Henriette  was  beside  herself,  frantic, 
she  could  not  be  brought  to  listen  to  any 
one.  She  rushed  into  the  other  room,  and 
when  the  older  woman  followed  her, 
shrieked  out  to  be  left  alone.  Afterwards, 
she  fled  to  her  own  room  and  barred  herself 
in,  and  George  and  his  mother  waited  dis 
tractedly  for  hours  until  she  should  give 
some  sign. 

Would  she  kill  herself,  perhaps?  Madame 
Dupont  hovered  on  guard  about  the  dc  3r 
of  the  nursery  for  fear  that  the  mother  in 
her  fit  of  insanity  might  attempt  some  harm 
to  her  child. 

The  nurse  had  slunk  away  abashed  when 
she  saw  the  consequences  of  her  outburst. 
But  by  the  time  she  had  got  her  belongings 
packed,  she  had  recovered  her  assurance. 

(138) 


DAMAGED  GOODS  139 

She  wanted  her  five  hundred;  also  she 
wanted  her  wages  and  her  railroad  fare 
home.  She  wanted  them  at  once,  and  she 
would  not  leave  until  she  got  them.  George 
and  his  mother,  in  the  midst  of  all  their 
anguish  of  mind,  had  to  go  through  a  dis 
gusting  scene  with  this  coarse  and  angry 
woman. 

They  had  no  such  sum  of  money  in  the 
house,  and  the  nurse  refused  to  accept  a 
check.  She  knew  nothing  about  a  check. 
It  was  so  much  paper,  and  might  be  some 
trick  that  they  were  playing  on  her.  She 
kept  repeating  her  old  formula,  "I  am  noth 
ing  but  a  poor  country  woman."  Nor 
would  she  be  contented  with  the  promise 
that  she  would  receive  the  money  the  next 
day.  She  seemed  to  be  afraid  that  if  she 
left  the  house  she  would  be  surrendering 
her  claim.  So  at  last  the  distracted  George 
had  to  sally  forth  and  obtain  the  cash  from 
some  tradesmen  in  the  neighborhood. 

The  woman  took  her  departure.  They 
made  her  sign  a  receipt  in  full  for  all  claims, 
and  they  strove  to  persuade  themselves 
that  this  made  them  safe;  but  hi  their 


140  DAMAGED  GOODS 

hearts  they  had  no  real  conviction  of  safety. 
What  was  the  woman's  signature,  or  her 
pledged  word,  against  the  cupidity  of  her 
husband  and  relatives.  Always  she  would 
have  the  dreadful  secret  to  hold  over  them, 
and  so  they  would  live  under  the  shadow 
of  possible  blackmail. 

Later  hi  the  day  Henriette  sent  for  her 
mother-in-law.  She  was  white,  her  eyes 
were  swollen  with  weeping,  and  she  spoke 
in  a  voice  choked  with  sobs.  She  wished 
to  return  at  once  to  her  father's  home, 
and  to  take  little  Gervaise  with  her. 
Madame  Dupont  cried  out  in  horror  at  this 
proposition,  and  argued  and  pleaded  and 
wept — but  all  to  no  purpose.  The  girl 
was  immovable.  She  would  not  stay  under 
her  husband's  roof,  and  she  would  take 
her  child  with  her.  It  was  her  right,  and 
no  one  could  refuse  her. 

The  infant  had  been  crying  for  hours,  but 
that  made  no  difference.  Henriette  in 
sisted  that  a  cab  should  be  called  at  once. 

So  she  went  back  to  the  home  of  Mon 
sieur  Loches  and  told  him  the  hideous  story. 
Never  before  in  her  life  had  she  discussed 


DAMAGED  GOODS  141 

such  subjects  with  any  one,  but  now  in  her 
agitation  she  told  her  father  all.  As 
George  had  declared  to  the  doctor,  Mon 
sieur  Loches  was  a  person  of  violent  temper; 
at  this  revelation,  at  the  sight  of  his  daugh 
ter's  agony,  he  was  almost  beside  himself. 
His  face  turned  purple,  the  veins  stood  out 
on  his  forehead;  a  trembling  seized  him. 
He  declared  that  he  would  kill  George — 
there  was  nothing  else  to  do.  Such  a 
scoundrel  should  not  be  permitted  to  live. 

The  effort  which  Henriette  had  to  make 
to  restrain  him  had  a  calming  effect  upon 
herself.  Bitter  and  indignant  as  she  was, 
she  did  not  want  George  to  be  killed. 
She  clung  to  her  father,  beseeching  him  to 
promise  her  that  he  would  not  do  such  a 
thing;  and  all  that  day  and  evening  she 
watched  him,  unwilling  to  let  him  out  of 
her  sight. 

There  was  a  matter  which  claimed  their 
immediate  attention,  and  which  helped 
to  withdraw  them  from  the  contemplation 
of  their  own  sufferings.  The  infant  must 
be  fed  and  cared  for — the  unhappy  victim 
of  other  people's  sins,  whose  life  was  now 


142  DAMAGED   GOODS 

imperilled.  A  dry  nurse  must  be  found 
at  once,  a  nurse  competent  to  take  every 
precaution  and  give  the  child  every  chance. 
This  nurse  must  be  informed  of  the  nature 
of  the  trouble — another  matter  which  re 
quired  a  great  deal  of  anxious  thought. 

That  evening  came  Madame  Dupont,  tor 
mented  by  anxiety  about  the  child's  welfare, 
and  beseeching  permission  to  help  take 
care  of  it.  It  was  impossible  to  refuse 
such  a  request.  Henriette  could  not  endure 
to  see  her,  but  the  poor  grandmother  would 
come  and  sit  for  hours  in  the  nursery, 
watching  the  child  and  the  nurse,  in  silent 
agony. 

This  continued  for  days,  while  poor 
George  wandered  about  at  home,  suffering 
such  torment  of  mind  as  can  hardly  be 
imagined.  Truly,  in  these  days  he  paid 
for  his  sins;  he  paid  a  thousand-fold  in 
agonized  and  impotent  regret.  He  looked 
back  upon  the  course  of  his  life,  and  traced 
one  by  one  the  acts  which  had  led  him  and 
those  he  loved  into  this  nightmare  of  tor 
ment.  He  would  have  been  willing  to  give 
his  life  if  he  could  have  undone  those  acts. 


DAMAGED   GOODS  143 

But  avenging  nature  offered  him  no  such 
easy  deliverance  as  that.  We  shudder 
as  we  read  the  grim  words  of  the  Jehovah 
of  the  ancient  Hebrews;  and  yet  not  all 
the  learning  of  modern  times  has  availed 
to  deliver  us  from  the  cruel  decree,  that 
the  sins  of  the  fathers  shall  be  visited 
upon  the  children. 

George  wrote  notes  to  his  wife,  imploring 
her  forgiveness.  He  poured  out  all  his 
agony  and  shame  to  her,  begging  her  to 
see  him  just  once,  to  give  him  a  chance  to 
plead  his  defense.  It  was  not  much  of  a 
defense,  to  be  sure;  it  was  only  that  he 
had  done  no  worse  than  the  others  did — 
only  that  he  was  a  wretched  victim  of 
ignorance.  But  he  loved  her,  he  had 
proven  that  he  loved  her,  and  he  pleaded 
that  for  the  sake  of  their  child  she  would 
forgive  him. 

When  all  this  availed  nothing,  he  went 
to  see  the  doctor,  whose  advice  he  had  so 
shamefully  neglected.  He  besought  this 
man  to  intercede  for  him — which  the  doc 
tor,  of  course,  refused  to  do.  It  was  an 
extra-medical  matter,  he  said,  and  George 
was  absurd  to  expect  him  to  meddle  in  it. 


10 


144  DAMAGED   GOODS 

But,  as  a  matter  of  fact,  the  doctor  had 
already  been  interceding — he  had  gone 
farther  in  pleading  George's  cause  tha»a  he 
was  willing  to  have  George  know.  For 
Monsieur  Loches  had  paid  him  a  visit — his 
purpose  being  to  ask  the  doctor  to  continue 
attendance  upon  the  infant,  and  also  to  give 
Henriette  a  certificate  which  she  could  use 
in  her  suit  for  a  divorce  from  her  husband. 

So  inevitably  there  had  been  a  discussion 
of  the  whole  question  between  the  two  men. 
The  doctor  had  granted  the  first  request, 
but  refused  the  second.  In  the  first  place, 
he  said,  there  was  a  rule  of  professional 
secrecy  which  would  prevent  him.  And 
when  the  father-in-law  requested  to  know 
if  the  rule  of  professional  secrecy  compelled 
him  to  protect  a  criminal  against  honest 
people,  the  doctor  answered  that  even 
if  his  ethics  permitted  it,  he  would  still 
refuse  the  request.  "I  would  reproach 
myself  forever,"  he  said,  "if  I  had  aided 
you  to  obtain  such  a  divorce. " 

"Then,"  cried  the  old  man,  vehemently, 
"because  you  profess  such  and  such  theories, 
because  the  exercise  of  your  profession 


DAMAGED   GOODS  145 

makes  you  the  constant  witness  of  such 
miseries — therefore  it  is  necessary  that  my 
daughter  should  continue  to  bear  that 
man's  name  all  her  life!" 

The  doctor  answered,  gently,  "Sir,  I 
understand  and  respect  your  grief.  But 
believe  me,  you  are  not  in  a  state  of  mind  to 
decide  about  these  matters  now." 

"You  are  mistaken,"  declared  the  other, 
controlling  himself  with  an  effort.  "I 
have  been  thinking  about  nothing  else  for 
days.  I  have  discussed  it  with  my  daughter, 
and  she  agrees  with  me.  Surely,  sir, 
you  cannot  desire  that  my  daughter  should 
continue  to  live  with  a  man  who  has  struck 
her  so  brutal,  so  cowardly,  a  blow." 

"If  I  refuse  your  request,"  the  doctor 
answered,  "it  is  in  the  interest  of  your 
daughter."  Then,  seeing  the  other's  excite 
ment  returning,  he  continued,  "In  your 
state  of  mind,  Monsieur  Loches,  I  know  that 
you  will  probably  be  abusing  me  before 
five  minutes  have  passed.  But  that  will 
not  trouble  me.  I  have  seen  many  cases. 
And  since  I  have  made  the  mistake  of 
letting  myself  be  trapped  into  this  discus- 


146  DAMAGED   GOODS 

sion,  I  must  explain  tc  you  the  reason  for 
my  attitude.  You  ask  of  me  a  certificate 
so  that  you  may  prove  in  court  that  your 
son-in-law  is  afflicted  with  syphilis." 

"  Precisely,"  said  the  other. 

"And  have  you  not  reflected  upon  this — 
that  at  the  same  time  you  will  be  publicly 
attesting  that  your  daughter  has  been 
exposed  to  the  contagion?  With  such  an 
admission,  an  admission  officially  registered 
hi  the  public  records,  do  you  believe  that 
she  will  find  it  easy  to  re-marry  later  on?" 

"She  will  never  re-marry,"  said  the 
father. 

"She  says  that  today,  but  can  you  affirm 
that  she  will  say  the  same  thing  five  years 
from  now,  ten  years  from  now?  I  tell 
you  you  will  not  obtain  that  divorce,  because 
I  will  most  certainly  refuse  you  the  neces 
sary  certificate." 

"Then,"  cried  the  other,  "I  will  find 
other  means  of  establishing  proofs.  I 
will  have  the  child  examined  by  another 
doctor!" 

The  other  answered.  "Then  you  do 
not  find  that  that  poor  little  one  has  been 


DAMAGED   GOODS  147 

already  sufficiently  handicapped  at  the 
outset  of  its  life?  Your  granddaughter 
has  a  physical  defect.  Do  you  wish  to 
add  to  that  a  certificate  of  hereditary 
syphilis,  which  will  follow  her  all  her  life?" 
Monsieur  Loches  sprang  from  his  chair. 
"You  mean  that  if  the  victims  seek  to 
defend  themselves,  they  will  be  struck 
the  harder!  You  mean  that  the  law  gives 
me  no  weapon  against  a  man  who,  knowing 
his  condition,  takes  a  young  girl,  sound, 
trusting,  innocent,  and  befouls  her  with 
the  result  of  his  debauches — makes  her  the 
mother  of  a  poor  little  creature,  whose 
future  is  such  that  those  who  love  her  the 
most  do  not  know  whether  they  ought 
to  pray  for  her  life,  or  for  her  immediate 
deliverance?  Sir,"  he  continued,  in  his 
orator's  voice,  "that  man  has  inflicted 
upon  the  woman  he  has  married  a  supreme 
insult.  He  has  made  her  the  victim  of  the 
most  odious  assault.  He  has  degraded  her — 
he  has  brought  her,  so  to  speak,  into  con 
tact  with  the  woman  of  the  streets.  He 
has  created  between  her  and  that  common 
woman  I  know  not  what  mysterious  rela- 


148  DAMAGED  GOODS 

tionship.  It  is  the  poisoned  blood  of  the 
prostitute  which  poisons  my  daughter  and 
her  child;  that  abject  creature,  she  lives, 
she  lives  hi  us!  She  belongs  to  our  family — 
he  has  given  her  a  seat  at  our  hearth! 
He  has  soiled  the  imagination  and  the 
thoughts  of  my  poor  child,  as  he  has  soiled 
her  body.  He  has  united  forever  in  her 
soul  the  idea  of  love  which  she  has  placed 
so  high,  with  I  know  not  what  horrors  of 
the  hospitals.  He  has  tainted  her  in  her 
dignity  and  her  modesty,  in  her  love  as  well 
as  in  her  baby.  He  has  struck  her  down 
with  physical  and  moral  decay,  he  has 
overwhelmed  her  with  vileness.  And  yet 
the  law  is  such,  the  customs  of  society  are 
such,  that  the  woman  cannot  separate 
herself  from  that  man  save  by  the  aid  of 
legal  proceedings  whose  scandal  will  fall 
upon  herself  and  upon  her  child!" 

Monsieur  Loches  had  been  pacing  up 
and  down  the  room  as  he  spoke,  and  now 
he  clenched  his  fists  in  sudden  fury. 

"Very  well!  I  will  not  address  myself 
to  the  law.  Since  I  learned  the  truth  I 
have  been  asking  myself  if  it  was  not  my 


DAMAGED  GOODS  149 

duty  to  find  that  monster  and  to  put  a 
bullet  into  his  head,  as  one  does  to  a  mad 
dog.  I  don't  know  what  weakness,  what 
cowardice,  has  held  me  back,  and  decided 
me  to  appeal  to  the  law.  Since  the  law 
will  not  protect  me,  I  will  seek  justice  for 
myself.  Perhaps  his  death  will  be  a  good 
warning  for  the  others!" 

The  doctor  shrugged  his  shoulders,  as 
if  to  say  that  this  was  no  affair  of  his,  and 
that  he  would  not  try  to  interfere.  But 
he  remarked,  quietly:  "You  will  be  tried 
for  your  life." 

"I  shall  be  acquitted!"  cried  the  other. 

"Yes,  but  after  a  public  revelation  of  all 
your  miseries.  You  will  make  the  scandal 
greater,  the  miseries  greater — that  is  all. 
And  how  do  you  know  but  that  on  the 
morrow  of  your  acquittal,  you  will  find 
yourself  confronting  another  court,  a  higher 
and  more  severe  one?  How  do  you  know 
but  that  your  daughter,  seized  at  last  by 
pity  for  the  man  you  have  killed,  will 
not  demand  to  know  by  what  right  you  have 
acted  so,  by  what  right  you  have  made  an 
orphan  of  her  child?  How  can  you  know 


150  DAMAGED  GOODS 

but  that  her  child  also  may  some  day 
demand  an  accounting  of  you?" 

Monsieur  Loches  let  his  hands  fall,  and 
stood,  a  picture  of  crushed  despair.  "Tell 
me  then/'  he  said,  in  a  faint  voice,  "what 
ought  I  to  do?" 

"Forgive!" 

There  followed  a  long  pause.  At  last 
the  old  man  whispered,  hoarsely,  "Never!" 

For  a  while  the  doctor  sat  looking  at 
him.  "Sir,"  he  said,  at  last,  "tell  me  one 
thing.  You  are  inflexible;  you  feel  you 
have  the  right  to  be  inflexible.  But  are 
you  really  so  certain  that  it  was  not  your 
duty,  once  upon  a  time,  to  save  your 
daughter  from  the  possibility  of  such  mis 
fortune?" 

"What?"  cried  the  other.  "My  duty? 
What  do  you  mean?  " 

"I  mean  this,  sir.  When  that  marriage 
was  being  discussed,  you  certainly  took 
precautions  to  inform  yourself  about  the 
financial  condition  of  your  future  son-in-law. 
You  demanded  that  he  should  prove  to 
you  that  his  stocks  and  bonds  were  actual 
value,  listed  on  the  exchange.  Also,  you 


DAMAGED  GOODS  151 

obtained  some  information  about  his  char 
acter.  In  fact,  you  forgot  only  one  point, 
the  most  important  of  all — that  was,  to 
inquire  if  he  was  in  good  health.  You 
never  did  that." 

The  father-in-law's  voice  had  become 
faint.  "No,"  he  said. 

"But  why  not?" 

"Because  that  is  not  the  custom." 

"Very  well,  but  that  ought  to  be  the 
custom.  Surely  the  father  of  a  family, 
before  he  gives  his  daughter  to  a  man, 
should  take  as  much  precaution  as  a  busi 
ness  concern  which  accepts  an  employee." 

"You  are  right,"  was  the  reply,  "there 
should  be  a  law."  The  man  spoke  as  a 
deputy,  having  authority  hi  these  matters. 

But  the  doctor  cried,  "No,  no,  sir!  Do 
not  make  a  new  law.  We  have  too  many 
already.  There  is  no  need  of  it.  It  would 
suffice  that  people  should  know  a  little 
better  what  syphilis  is.  The  custom  would 
establish  itself  very  quickly  for  a  suitor 
to  add  to  all  the  other  documents  which 
he  presents,  a  certificate  of  a  doctor,  as 
proof  that  he  could  be  received  into  a 


152  DAMAGED   GOODS 

family  without  bringing  a  pestilence  with 
him.  That  would  be  very  simple.  Once 
let  the  custom  be  established,  then  the 
suitor  would  go  to  the  doctor  for  a  certificate 
of  health,  just  as  he  goes  to  the  priest  for 
a  certificate  that  he  has  confessed;  and  by 
that  means  you  would  prevent  a  great  deal 
of  suffering  in  the  world.  Or  let  me  put 
it  another  way,  sir.  Nowadays,  before 
you  conclude  a  marriage,  you  get  the  law 
yers  of  the  two  families  together.  It 
would  be  of  at  least  equal  importance  to 
get  their  two  doctors  together.  You  see, 
sir,  your  inquiry  concerning  your  son-in- 
law  was  far  from  complete.  So  your 
daughter  may  fairly  ask  you,  why  you, 
being  a  man,  being  a  father  who  ought 
to  know  these  things,  did  not  take  as  much 
care  of  her  health  as  you  took  of  her  for 
tune.  So  it  is,  sir,  that  I  say  to  you, 
forgive!" 

But  Monsieur  Loches  said  again, 
"Never!" 

And  again  the  doctor  sat  and  watched 
him  for  a  minute.  "Come,  sir,"  he  began, 
finally,  "since  it  is  necessary  to  employ 


DAMAGED  GOODS  153 

the  last  argument,  I  will  do  so.  To  be  so 
severe  and  so  pitiless — are  you  yourself 
without  sin?" 

The  other  answered,  "I  have  never  had 
a  shameful  disease." 

"I  do  not  ask  you  that,"  interrupted 
the  doctor.  "I  ask  you  if  you  have  never 
exposed  yourself  to  the  chance  of  having 
it."  And  then,  reading  the  other's  face, 
he  went  on,  in  a  tone  of  quiet  certainty. 
"Yes,  you  have  exposed  yourself.  Then, 
sir,  it  was  not  virtue  that  you  had;  it  was 
good  fortune.  That  is  one  of  the  things 
which  exasperate  me  the  most — that  term 
'shameful  disease'  which  you  have  just 
used.  Like  all  other  diseases,  that  is  one 
of  our  misfortunes,  and  it  is  never  shameful 
to  be  unfortunate — even  if  one  has  deserved 
it."  The  doctor  paused,  and  then  with 
some  excitement  he  went  on:  "Come, 
sir,  come,  we  must  understand  each  other. 
Among  men  the  most  exacting,  among  those 
who  with  their  middle-class  prudery  dare 
not  pronounce  the  name  of  syphilis,  or 
who  make  the  most  terrifying  faces,  the 
most  disgusted,  when  they  consent  to  speak 


154  DAMAGED   GOODS 

of  it — who  regard  the  syphilitic  as  sinners — 
I  should  wish  to  know  how  many  there 
are  who  have  never  exposed  themselves 
to  a  similar  misadventure.  They  and 
they  alone  have  the  right  to  speak.  How 
many  are  there?  Among  a  thousand  men, 
are  there  four?  Very  well,  then.  Excepting 
those  four,  between  all  the  rest  and  the 
syphilitic  there  is  nothing  but  the  difference 
of  chance." 

There  came  into  the  doctor's  voice  at 
this  moment  a  note  of  intense  feeling; 
for  these  were  matters  of  which  evidence 
came  to  him  every  day.  "I  tell  you,  sir, 
that  such  people  are  deserving  of  sympathy, 
because  they  are  suffering.  If  they  have 
committed  a  fault,  they  have  at  least  the 
plea  that  they  are  expiating  it.  No,  sir, 
let  me  hear  no  more  of  that  hypocrisy. 
Recall  your  own  youth,  sir.  That  which 
afflicts  your  son-in-law,  you  have  deserved  it 
just  as  much  as  he — more  than  he,  perhaps. 
Therefore,  have  pity  on  him;  have  for  him 
the  toleration  which  the  unpunished  criminal 
ought  to  have  for  the  criminal  less  fortunate 
than  himself,  upon  whom  the  penalty  has 
fallen,  Is  that  not  so?". 


DAMAGED  GOODS  155 

Monsieur  Loches  had  been  listening  to 
this  discourse  with  the  feeling  of  a  thief 
before  the  bar.  There  was  nothing  that 
he  could  answer.  "Sir,"  he  stammered, 
"as  you  present  this  thing  to  me " 

"But  am  I  not  right?"  insisted  the  doc 
tor. 

"Perhaps  you  are,"  the  other  admitted. 
"  But — I  cannot  say  all  that  to  my  daughter, 
to  persuade  her  to  go  back  to  her  husband." 

"You  can  give  her  other  arguments," 
was  the  answer. 

"What  arguments,  in  God's  name?" 

"There  is  no  lack  of  them.  You  will 
say  to  her  that  a  separation  would  be  a 
misfortune  for  all;  that  her  husband  is 
the  only  one  in  the  world  who  would  be 
devoted  enough  to  help  her  save  her  child. 
You  will  say  to  her  that  out  of  the  ruins 
of  her  first  happiness  she  can  build  herself 
another  structure,  far  stronger.  And,  sir, 
you  will  add  to  that  whatever  your  good 
heart  may  suggest — and  we  will  arrange 
so  that  the  next  child  of  the  pair  shall  be 
sound  and  vigorous." 

Monsieur  Loches  received  this  announce- 


156  DAMAGED  GOODS 

ment  with  the  same  surprise  that  George 
himself  had  manifested.  "Is  that  possi 
ble?  "  he  asked. 

The  doctor  cried:  "Yes,  yes,  yes — a 
thousand  times  yes!  There  is  a  phrase 
which  I  repeat  on  every  occasion,  and  which 
I  would  wish  to  post  upon  the  walls.  It 
is  that  syphilis  is  an  imperious  mistress, 
who  only  demands  that  one  should  recognize 
her  power.  She  is  terrible  for  those  who 
think  her  insignificant,  and  gentle  with 
those  who  know  how  dangerous  she  is. 
You  know  that  kind  of  mistress — who  is 
only  vexed  when  she  is  neglected.  You 
may  tell  this  to  your  daughter — you  will 
restore  her  to  the  arms  of  her  husband, 
from  whom  she  has  no  longer  anything  to 
fear,  and  I  will  guarantee  that  you  will 
be  a  happy  grandfather  two  years  from 


now." 


Monsieur  Loches  at  last  showed  that  he 
was  weakened  in  his  resolution. 

"Doctor,"  he  said,  "I  do  not  know  that 
I  can  ever  go  so  far  as  forgiveness,  but  I 
promise  you  that  I  will  do  no  irreparable 
act,  and  that  I  will  not  oppose  a  reconcilia- 


DAMAGED  GOODS  157 

tion  if  after  the  lapse  of  some  time — I 
cannot  venture  to  say  how  long — my  poor 
child  should  make  up  her  mind  to  a  recon 
ciliation." 

"Very  good,"  said  the  other.  "But 
let  me  add  this:  If  you  have  another 
daughter,  take  care  to  avoid  the  fault 
which  you  committed  when  you  married 
off  the  first." 

"But,"  said  the  old  man,  "I  did  not 
know." 

"Ah,  surely!"  cried  the  other.  "You 
did  not  know!  You  are  a  father,  and  you 
did  not  know!  You  are  a  deputy,  you  have 
assumed  the  responsibility  and  the  honor 
of  making  our  laws — and  you  did  not  know! 
You  are  ignorant  about  syphilis,  just  as 
you  probably  are  ignorant  about  alcoholism 
and  tuberculosis." 

"No,"  exclaimed  the  other,  quickly. 

"Very  well,"  said  the  doctor,  "I  will 
leave  you  out,  if  you  wish.  I  am  talking 
of  the  others,  the  five  hundred,  and  I 
don't  know  how  many  more,  who  are  there 
in  the  Chamber  of  Deputies,  and  who  call 
themselves  representatives  of  the  people. 


158  DAMAGED   GOODS 

They  are  not  able  to  find  a  single  hour  to 
discuss  these  three  cruel  gods,  to  which 
egotism  and  indifference  make  every  day 
such  frightful  human  sacrifices.  They  have 
not  sufficient  leisure  to  combat  this  fero 
cious  trinity,  which  destroys  every  day 
thousands  of  lives.  Alcoholism!  It  would 
be  necessary  to  forbid  the  manufacture  of 
poisons,  and  to  restrict  the  number  of 
licenses;  but  as  one  has  fear  of  the  great 
distillers,  who  are  rich  and  powerful,  and 
of  the  little  dealers,  who  are  the  masters 
of  universal  suffrage,  one  puts  one's  con 
science  to  sleep  by  lamenting  the  immorality 
of  the  working-class,  and  publishing  little 
pamphlets  and  sermons.  Imbeciles!  .  .  . 
Tuberculosis!  Everybody  knows  the  true 
remedy,  which  would  be  the  paying  of 
sufficient  wages,  and  the  tearing  down  of  the 
filthy  tenements  into  which  the  laborers 
are  packed — those  who  are  the  most  useful 
and  the  most  unfortunate  among  our  popu 
lation!  But  needless  to  say,  no  one  wants 
that  remedy,  so  we  go  round  begging  the 
workingmen  not  to  spit  on  the  sidewalks. 
Wonderful!  But  syphilis — why  do  you 


DAMAGED   GOODS  159 

not  occupy  yourself  with  that?  Why, 
since  you  have  ministers  whose  duty  it 
is  to  attend  to  all  sorts  of  things,  do  you 
not  have  a  minister  to  attend  to  the  public 
health?" 

"My  dear  Doctor,"  responded  Monsieur 
Loches,  "you  fall  into  the  French  habit  of 
considering  the  government  as  the  cause 
of  all  evils.  Show  us  the  way,  you  learned 
gentlemen!  Since  that  is  a  matter  about 
which  you  are  informed,  and  we  are  igno 
rant,  begin  by  telling  us  what  measures  you 
believe  to  be  necessary." 

"Ah,  ah!"  exclaimed  the  other.  "That's 
fine,  indeed!  It  was  about  eighteen  years 
ago  that  a  project  of  that  nature,  worked 
out  by  the  Academy  of  Medicine,  and 
approved  by  it  unanimously,  was  sent  to 
the  proper  minister.  We  have  not  yet  heard 
his  reply." 

"You  really  believe,"  inquired  Monsieur 
Loches,  in  some  bewilderment,  "you  believe 
that  there  are  some  measures " 

"Sir,"  broke  in  the  doctor,  "before  we 
get  through,  you  are  going  to  suggest  some 
measures  yourself.  Let  me  tell  you  what 


11 


160  DAMAGED   GOODS 


happened  today.  When  I  received  your 
card  I  did  not  know  that  you  were  the 
father-in-law  of  George  Dupont.  I  saw 
that  you  were  a  deputy,  and  I  thought  that 
you  wanted  to  get  some  information  about 
these  matters.  There  was  a  woman  patient 
waiting  to  see  me,  and  I  kept  her  in  my 
waiting-room — saying  to  myself,  "This 
is  just  the  sort  of  person  that  our  deputies 
ought  to  talk  to." 

The  doctor  paused  for  a  moment,  then 
continued,  with  a  smile:  "Be  reassured, 
I  will  take  care  of  your  nerves.  This 
patient  has  no  trouble  that  is  apparent 
to  the  eye.  She  is  simply  an  illustration 
of  the  argument  I  have  been  advancing — 
that  our  worst  enemy  is  ignorance.  Igno 
rance — you  understand  me?  Since  I  have 
got  you  here,  sir,  I  am  going  to  hold 
you  until  I  have  managed  to  cure  a 
little  of  your  ignorance!  For  I  tell  you, 
sir,  it  is  a  thing  which  drives  me  to  distrac 
tion — we  must  do  something  about  these 
conditions!  Take  this  case,  for  example. 
Here  is  a  woman  who  is  very  seriously 
infected.  I  told  her — well,  wait;  you 
shall  see  for  yourself." 


8 

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DAMAGED   GOODS  161 

The  doctor  went  to  the  door  and  sum 
moned  into  the  room  a  woman  whom  Mon 
sieur  Loches  had  noticed  waiting  there.  She 
was  verging  on  old  age,  small,  frail,  and 
ill-nourished  in  appearance,  poorly  dressed, 
and  yet  with  a  suggestion  of  refinement 
about  her.  She  stood  near  the  door,  twist 
ing  her  hands  together  nervously,  and 
shrinking  from  the  gaze  of  the  strange 
gentleman.  The  doctor  began  in  an  angry 
voice.  "Did  I  not  tell  you  to  come  and 
see  me  once  every  eight  days?  Is  that  not 
true?" 

The  woman  answered,  in  a  faint  voice, 
"Yes,  sir." 

"Well,"  he  exclaimed,  "and  how  long 
has  it  been  since  you  were  here?" 

"Three  months,  sir." 

"Three  months!  And  you  believe  that 
I  can  take  care  of  you  under  such  con 
ditions!  I  give  you  up!  Do  you  under 
stand?  You  discourage  me,  you  discourage 
me."  There  was  a  pause.  Then,  seeing 
the  woman's  suffering,  he  began,  in  a 
gentler  tone,  "Come  now,  what  is  the  rea 
son  that  you  have  not  come?  Didn't  you 


162  DAMAGED   GOODS 

know  that  you  have  a  serious  disease- 
most  serious?" 

"Oh,  yes,  sir,"  replied  the  woman,  "I 
know  that  very  well — since  my  husband 
died  of  it." 

The  doctor's  voice  bore  once  again  its 
note  of  pity.  "Your  husband  died  of  it?" 

"Yes,  sir." 

"He  took  no  care  of  himself?" 

"No,  sir." 

"And  was  not  that  a  warning  to  you?" 

"Doctor,"  the  woman  replied,  "I  would 
ask  nothing  better  than  to  come  as  often 
as  you  told  me,  but  the  cost  is  too  great." 

"How — what  cost?  You  were  coming 
to  my  free  clinic." 

"Yes,  sir,"  replied  the  woman,  "but  that's 
during  working  hours,  and  then  it  is  a  long 
way  from  home.  There  are  so  many  sick 
people,  and  I  have  to  wait  my  turn.  It  is 
in  the  morning — sometimes  I  lose  a  whole 
day — and  then  my  employer  is  annoyed, 
and  he  threatens  to  turn  me  off.  It  is 
things  like  that  that  keep  people  from 
coming,  until  they  dare  not  put  it  off  any 
longer.  Then,  too,  sir — "  the  woman 
stopped,  hesitating. 


DAMAGED   GOODS  163 

"Well,"  demanded  the  doctor. 
"Oh,    nothing,    sir,"    she    stammered. 
You  have  been  too  good  to  me  already." 
"Go  on,"  commanded  the  other.     "Tell 


me." 


"Well,"  murmured  the  woman,  "I  know 
I  ought  not  to  put  on  airs,  but  you  see  I 
have  not  always  been  so  poor.  Before  my 
husband's  misfortune,  we  were  well  fixed. 
So  you  see,  I  have  a  little  pride.  I  have 
always  managed  to  take  care  of  myself. 
I  am  not  a  woman  of  the  streets,  and  to 
stand  around  like  that,  with  everybody 
else,  to  be  obliged  to  tell  all  one's  miseries 
out  loud  before  the  world!  I  am  wrong, 
I  know  it  perfectly  well;  I  argue  with  my 
self — but  all  the  same,  it's  hard,  sir;  I 
assure  you,  it  is  truly  hard." 

"Poor  woman!"  said  the  doctor;  and 
for  a  while  there  was  a  silence.  Then  he 
asked :  "It  was  your  husband  who  brought 
you  the  disease?" 

"Yes,  sir,"  was  the  reply.  "Every 
thing  which  happened  to  us  came  from 
him.  We  were  living  in  the  country  when 
he  got  the  disease.  He  went  half  crazy. 


164  DAMAGED   GOODS 

He  no  longer  knew  how  to  manage  his 
affairs.  He  gave  orders  here  and  there 
for  considerable  sums.  We  were  not  able 
to  find  the  money." 

"Why  did  he  not  undergo  treatment?" 

"He  didn't  know  then.  We  were  sold 
out,  and  we  came  to  Paris.  But  we  hadn't 
a  penny.  He  decided  to  go  to  the  hospital 
for  treatment. 

"And  then?" 

"Why,  they  looked  him  over,  but  they 
refused  him  any  medicine." 

"How  was  that?" 

"Because  we  had  been  in  Paris  only 
three  months.  If  one  hasn't  been  a  resi 
dent  six  months,  one  has  no  right  to  free 
medicine." 

"Is  that  true?"  broke  in  Monsieur 
Loches  quickly. 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor,  "that's  the  rule." 

"So  you  see,"  said  the  woman,  "it  was 
not  our  fault." 

"You  never  had  children?"  inquired  the 
doctor. 

"I  was  never  able  to  bring  one  to  birth/' 
was  the  answer.  "My  husband  was  taken 


DAMAGED  GOODS  165 

just  at  the  beginning  of  our  marriage — 
it  was  while  he  was  serving  in  the  army. 
You  know,  sir — there  are  women  about  the 
garrisons — "  She  stopped,  and  there  was 
a  long  silence. 

"Come,"  said  the  doctor,"  that's  all 
right.  I  will  arrange  it  with  you.  You  can 
come  here  to  my  office,  and  you  can  come 
on  Sunday  mornings."  And  as  the  poor 
creature  started  to  express  her  gratitude, 
he  slipped  a  coin  into  her  hand.  "Come, 
come;  take  it,"  he  said,  gruffly.  "You 
are  not  going  to  play  proud  with  me. 
No,  no,  I  have  no  time  to  listen  to  you. 
Hush!"  And  he  pushed  her  out  of  the 
door. 

Then  he  turned  to  the  deputy.  "You 
heard  her  story,  sir,"  he  said.  "Her 
husband  was  serving  his  time  in  the  army; 
it  was  you  law-makers  who  compelled  him 
to  do  that.  And  there  are  women  about 
the  garrisons — you  heard  how  her  voice 
trembled  as  she  said  that?  Take  my  advice, 
sir,  and  look  up  the  statistics  as  to  the 
prevalence  of  this  disease  among  our  sol 
diers.  Come  to  some  of  my  clinics,  and  let 


166  DAMAGED  GOODS 

me  introduce  you  to  other  social  types. 
You  don't  care  very  much  about  soldiers, 
perhaps — they  belong  to  the  lower  classes, 
and  you  think  of  them  as  rough  men.  But 
let  me  show  you  what  is  going  on  among 
our  college  students — among  the  men  our 
daughters  are  some  day  to  marry.  Let  me 
show  you  the  women  who  prey  upon  them! 
Perhaps,  who  knows — I  can  show  you  the 
very  woman  who  was  the  cause  of  all  the 
misery  hi  your  own  family!" 

And  as  Monsieur  Loches  rose  from  his 
chair,  the  doctor  came  to  him  and  took  him 
by  the  hand.  "  Promise  me,  sir,"  he  said, 
earnestly,  "that  you  will  come  back  and  let 
me  teach  you  more  about  these  matters. 
It  is  a  chance  that  I  must  not  let  go — 
the  first  time  in  my  life  that  I  ever  got 
hold  of  a  real  live  deputy!  Come  and 
make  a  study  of  this  subject,  and  let  us  try 
to  work  out  some  sensible  plan,  and  get 
seriously  to  work  to  remedy  these  frightful 
evils  I" 


CHAPTER  VI 

GEORGE  lived  with  his  mother  after 
Henriette  had  left  his  home.  He 
was  wretchedly  unhappy  and  lonely. 
He  could  find  no  interest  in  any  of  the  things 
which  had  pleased  him  before.  He  was 
ashamed  to  meet  any  of  his  friends,  because 
he  imagined  that  everyone  must  have  heard 
the  dreadful  story — or  because  he  was  not 
equal  to  making  up  explanations  for  his 
mournful  state.  He  no  longer  cared  much 
about  his  work.  What  was  the  use  of 
making  a  reputation  or  earning  large  fees 
when  one  had  nothing  to  spend  them  for? 
All  his  thoughts  were  fixed  upon  the  wife 
and  child  he  had  lost.  He  was  reminded 
of  Henriette  in  a  thousand  ways,  and  each 
way  brought  him  a  separate  pang  of  grief. 
He  had  never  realized  how  much  he  loved 
her,  how  much  he  had  come  to  depend 
up-on  her  in  every  little  thing — until  now, 

(167) 


168  DAMAGED   GOODS 

when  her  companionship  was  withdrawn 
from  him,  and  everything  seemed  to  be  a 
blank.  He  would  come  home  at  night,  and 
opposite  to  him  at  the  dinner-table  would 
be  his  mother,  silent  and  spectral.  How 
different  from  the  days  when  Henriette 
was  there,  radiant  and  merry,  eager  to  be 
told  everything  that  had  happened  to  him 
through  the  day! 

There  was  also  his  worry  about  little 
Gervaise.  He  might  no  longer  hear  how 
she  was  doing,  for  he  could  not  get  up 
courage  to  ask  his  mother  the  news.  Thus 
poor  George  was  paying  for  his  sins.  He 
could  make  no  complaints  against  the 
price,  however  high — only  sometimes  he 
wondered  whether  he  would  be  able  to 
pay  it.  There  were  times  of  such  dis 
couragement  that  he  thought  of  different 
ways  of  killing  himself. 

A  curious  adventure  befell  him  during 
this  period.  He  was  walking  one  day  in 
the  park,  when  he  saw  approaching  a 
girl  whose  face  struck  him  as  familiar.  At 
first  he  could  not  recollect  where  he  had 
seen  her.  It  was  only  when  she  was  nearly 


DAMAGED   GOODS  169 

opposite  to  him  that  he  realized — it  was 
the  girl  who  had  been  the  cause  of  all  his 
misery! 

He  tried  to  look  away,  but  he  was  too  late. 
Her  eyes  had  caught  his,  and  she  nodded 
and  then  stopped,  exclaiming,  "Why,  how 
do  you  do?" 

George  had  to  face  her.  "How  do  you 
do?"  he  responded,  weakly. 

She  held  out  her  hand  and  he  had  to  take 
it,  but  there  was  not  much  welcome  in  his 
clasp.  "Where  have  you  been  keeping 
yourself?"  she  asked.  Then,  as  he  hesi 
tated,  she  laughed  good-naturedly,  "WTiat's 
the  matter?  You  don't  seem  glad  to  see 


me." 


The  girl — Therese  was  her  name — had  a 
little  package  under  her  arm,  as  if  she  had 
been  shopping.  She  was  not  well  dressed, 
as  when  George  had  met  her  before,  and 
doubtless  she  thought  that  was  the  reason 
for  his  lack  of  cordiality.  This  made  him 
rather  ashamed,  and  so,  only  half  realizing 
what  he  was  doing,  he  began  to  stroll  along 
with  her. 

"Why  did  you  never  come  to  see  me 
again?"  she  asked. 


170  DAMAGED  GOODS 

George  hesitated.  "I — I — "  he  stam 
mered — "I've  been  married  since  then." 

She  laughed.  "Oh!  So  that's  it!" 
And  then,  as  they  came  to  a  bench  under 
some  trees,  "Won't  you  sit  down  a  while?" 
There  was  allurement  in  her  glance,  but  it 
made  George  shudder.  It  was  incredible 
to  him  that  he  had  ever  been  attracted 
by  this  crude  girl.  The  spell  was  now 
broken  completely. 

She  quickly  saw  that  something  was 
wrong.  "You  don't  seem  very  cheerful," 
she  said.  "What's  the  matter?" 

And  the  man,  staring  at  her,  suddenly 
blurted  out,  "Don't  you  know  what  you 
did  to  me?" 

"What  I  did  to  you?"  The'rese  repeated 
wonderingly. 

"You  must  know!"  he  insisted. 

And  then  she  tried  to  meet  his  gaze  and 
could  not.  "Why — "  she  stammered. 

There  was  silence  between  them.  When 
George  spoke  again  his  voice  was  low  and 
trembling.  "You  ruined  my  whole  life," 
he  said — "not  only  mine,  but  my  family's. 
How  could  you  do  it?" 


DAMAGED   GOODS  171 

She  strove  to  laugh  it  off.  "A  cheerful 
topic  for  an  afternoon  stroll!" 

For  a  long  while  George  did  not  answer. 
Then,  almost  in  a  whisper,  he  repeated, 
"How  could  you  do  it?" 

"Some  one  did  it  to  me  first/'  was  the 
response.  "A  man!" 

"Yes,"  said  George,  "but  he  didn't 
know." 

"How  can  you  tell  whether  he  knew  or 
not?" 

"You  knew?"  he  inquired,  wonderingly. 

Therese  hesitated.  "Yes,  I  knew,"  she 
said  at  last,  defiantly.  "I  have  known  for 
years." 

"And  I'm  not  the  only  man." 

She  laughed.     "I  guess  not!" 

There  followed  a  long  pause.  At  last 
he  resumed,  "I  don't  want  to  blame  you; 
there's  nothing  to  be  gained  by  that;  it's 
done,  and  can't  be  undone.  But  sometimes 
I  wonder  about  it.  I  should  like  to  under 
stand — why  did  you  do  it?" 

"Why?  That's  easy  enough.  I  did  it 
because  I  have  to  live." 

"You  live  that  way?"  he  exclaimed. 


172  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"Why  of  course.     What  did  you  think?" 

"I  thought  you  were  a — & — "  He 
hesitated. 

"You  thought  I  was  respectable,"  laughed 
Therese.  "Well,  that's  just  a  little  game 
I  was  playing  on  you." 

"But  I  didn't  give  you  any  money!" 
he  argued. 

"Not  that  tune,"  she  said,  "but  I  thought 
you  would  come  back." 

He  sat  gazing  at  her.  "And  you  earn 
your  living  that  way  still?"  he  asked. 
"When  you  know  what's  the  matter  with 
you!  When  you  know — 

"What  can  I  do?  I  have  to  live,  don't 
I?" 

"But  don't  you  even  take  care  of  your 
self?  Surely  there  must  be  some  way, 
some  place — " 

"The  reformatory,  perhaps,"  she  sneered. 
"No,  thanks!  I'll  go  there  when  the  police 
catch  me,  not  before.  I  know  some  girls 
that  have  tried  that." 

"But  aren't  you  afraid?"  cried  the  man. 
"And  the  things  that  will  happen  to  you! 
Have  you  ever  talked  to  a  doctor — or 
read  a  book?" 


DAMAGED  GOODS  173 

"I  know,"  she  said.  "IVe  seen  it  all. 
If  it  comes  to  me,  I'll  go  over  the  side  of 
one  of  the  bridges  some  dark  night." 

George  sat  lost  in  thought.  A  strange 
adventure  it  seemed  to  him — to  meet  this 
girl  under  such  different  circumstances! 
It  was  as  if  he  were  watching  a  play  from 
behind  the  scenes  instead  of  in  front.  If 
only  he  had  had  this  new  view  in  time — how 
different  would  have  been  his  life!  And 
how  terrible  it  was  to  think  of  the  others 
who  didn't  know — the  audience  who  were 
still  sitting  out  in  front,  watching  the 
spectacle,  interested  in  it! 

His  thoughts  came  back  to  The'rese.  He 
was  curious  about  her  and  the  life  she  lived. 
"Tell  me  a  little  about  it,"  he  said.  "How 
you  came  to  be  doing  this."  And  he 
added,  "Don't  think  I  want  to  preach; 
I'd  really  like  to  understand." 

"Oh,  it's  a  common  story,"  she  said — 
"nothing  especially  romantic.  I  came  to 
Paris  when  I  was  a  girl.  My  parents  had 
died,  and  I  had  no  friends,  and  I  didn't 
know  what  to  do.  I  got  a  place  as  a  nurse 
maid.  I  was  seventeen  years  old  then, 


174  DAMAGED   GOODS 

and  I  didn't  know  anything.  I  believed 
what  I  was  told,  and  I  believed  my 
employer.  His  wife  was  ill  in  a  hospital, 
and  he  said  he  wanted  to  marry  me  when  she 
died.  Well,  I  liked  him,  and  I  was  sorry 
for  him — and  then  the  first  thing  I  knew  I 
had  a  baby.  And  then  the  wife  came  back, 
and  I  was  turned  off.  I  had  been  a  fool, 
of  course.  If  I  had  been  in  her  place  I 
should  have  done  just  what  she  did." 

The  girl  was  speaking  in  a  cold,  matter-of- 
fact  voice,  as  of  things  about  which  she  was 
no  longer  able  to  suffer.  "So  there  I  was — 
on  the  street,"  she  went  on.  "You  have 
always  had  money,  a  comfortable  home, 
education,  friends  to  help  you — all  that. 
You  can't  imagine  how  it  is  to  be  in  the 
world  without  any  of  these  things.  I  lived 
on  my  savings  as  long  as  I  could;  then  I 
had  to  leave  my  baby  in  a  foundling's 
home,  and  I  went  out  to  do  my  five  hours 
on  the  boulevards.  You  know  the  game, 
I've  no  doubt." 

Yes,  George  knew  the  game.  Somehow 
or  other  he  no  longer  felt  bitter  towards 
this  poor  creature.  She  was  part  of  the 


DAMAGED  GOODS  175 

system  of  which  he  was  a  victim  also. 
There  was  nothing  to  be  gained  by  hating 
each  other.  Just  as  the  doctor  said,  what 
was  needed  was  enlightenment.  "Listen," 
he  said,  "why  don't  you  try  to  get  cured?" 

"I  haven't  got  the  price,"  was  the 
answer. 

"Well,"  he  said,  hesitatingly,  "I  know 
a  doctor — one  of  the  really  good  men.  He 
has  a  free  clinic,  and  I've  no  doubt  he 
would  take  you  in  if  I  asked  him  to." 

"  You  ask  him?"  echoed  the  other,  looking 
at  George  in  surprise. 

The  young  man  felt  somewhat  uncom 
fortable.  He  was  not  used  to  playing  the 
role  of  the  good  Samaritan.  "I — I  need 
not  tell  him  about  us,"  he  stammered. 
"I  could  just  say  that  I  met  you.  I  have 
had  such  a  wretched  time  myself,  I  feel 
sorry  for  anybody  that's  in  the  same  plight. 
I  should  like  to  help  you  if  I  could." 

The  girl  sat  staring  before  her,  lost  in 
thought.  "I  have  treated  you  badly,  I 
guess,"  she  said.  "I'm  sorry.  I'm  ashamed 
of  myself." 

George  took  a  pencil  and  paper  from  his 


176  DAMAGED  GOODS 

pocket  and  wrote  the  doctor's  address. 
"Here  it  is,"  he  said,  in  a  business-like 
way,  because  he  felt  that  otherwise  he  could 
become  sentimental.  He  was  half  tempted 
to  tell  the  woman  what  had  happened  to 
him,  and  all  about  Henriette  and  the  sick 
child;  but  he  realized  that  that  would  not 
do.  So  he  rose  and  shook  hands  with  her 
and  left. 

The  next  time  he  saw  the  doctor  he 
told  him  about  this  girl.  He  decided  to 
tell  him  the  truth — having  already  made 
so  many  mistakes  trying  to  conceal  things. 
The  doctor  agreed  to  treat  the  woman, 
making  the  condition  that  George  promise 
not  to  see  her  again. 

The  young  man  was  rather  shocked  at 
this.  " Doctor,"  he  exclaimed,  "I  assure 
you  you  are  mistaken.  The  thing  you  have 
in  mind  would  be  utterly  impossible." 

"I  know,"  said  the  other,  "you  think  so. 
But  I  think,  young  man,  that  I  know  more 
about  life  than  you  do.  When  a  man  and  a 
woman  have  once  committed  such  a  sin, 
it  is  easy  for  them  to  slip  back.  The  less 
time  they  spend  talking  about  their  mis- 


DAMAGED  GOODS  177 

fortunes,  and  being  generous  and  for 
bearing  to  each  other,  the  better  for  them 
both." 

"But,  Doctor,"  cried  George.  "I  love 
Henriette!  I  could  not  possibly  love  any 
one  else.  It  would  be  horrible  to  me!" 

"Yes,"  said  the  doctor.  "But  you  are 
not  living  with  Henriette.  You  are  wander 
ing  round,  not  knowing  what  to  do  with 
yourself  next." 

There  was  no  need  for  anybody  to  tell 
George  that.  "What  do  you  think?"  he 
asked  abruptly.  "Is  there  any  hope  for 
me?" 

"I  think  there  is,"  said  the  other,  who, 
in  spite  of  his  resolution,  had  become  a 
sort  of  ambassador  for  the  unhappy  hus 
band.  He  had  to  go  to  the  Loches  house 
to  attend  the  child,  and  so  he  could  not 
help  seeing  Henriette,  and  talking  to  her 
about  the  child's  health  and  her  own 
future.  He  considered  that  George  had 
had  his  lesson,  and  urged  upon  the  young 
wife  that  he  would  be  wiser  in  future,  and 
safe  to  trust. 

George  had  indeed  learned  much.     He 


178  DAMAGED  GOODS 

got  new  lessons  every  time  he  went  to  call 
at  the  physician's  office — he  could  read 
them  in  the  faces  of  the  people  he  saw  there. 
One  day  when  he  was  alone  in  the  waiting- 
room,  the  doctor  came  out  of  his  inner 
office,  talking  to  an  elderly  gentleman, 
whom  George  recognized  as  the  father  of 
one  of  his  classmates  at  college.  The 
father  was  a  little  shopkeeper,  and  the 
young  man  remembered  how  pathetically 
proud  he  had  been  of  his  son.  Could  it  be, 
thought  George,  that  this  old  man  was  a 
victim  of  syphilis? 

But  it  was  the  son,  and  not  the  father, 
who  was  the  subject  of  the  consultation. 
The  old  man  was  speaking  in  a  deeply 
moved  voice,  and  he  stood  so  that  George 
could  not  help  hearing  what  he  said. 
" Perhaps  you  can't  understand,"  he  said, 
"just  what  it  means  to  us — the  hopes  we 
had  of  that  boy!  Such  a  fine  fellow  he  was, 
and  a  good  fellow,  too,  sir!  We  were  so 
proud  of  him;  we  had  bled  our  veins  to 
keep  him  in  college — and  now  just  see!" 

"Don't  despair,  sir,"  said  the  doctor, 
"we'll  try  to  cure  him."  And  he  added, 


DAMAGED   GOODS  179 

with  that  same  note  of  sorrow  in  his  voice 
which  George  had  heard,  "Why  did  you 
wait  so  long  before  you  brought  the  boy 
to  me?" 

"How  was  I  to  know  what  he  had?" 
cried  the  other.  "He  didn't  dare  tell  me, 
sir — he  was  afraid  of  my  scolding  him. 
And  in  the  meantime  the  disease  was 
running  its  course.  When  he  realized  that 
he  had  it,  he  went  secretly  to  one  of  the 
quacks,  who  robbed  him,  and  didn't  cure 
him.  You  know  how  it  is,  sir." 

"Yes,  I  know,"  said  the  doctor. 

"Such  things  ought  not  to  be  permitted," 
cried  the  old  man.  "What  is  our  govern 
ment  about  that  it  allows  such  things  to  go 
on?  Take  the  conditions  there  at  the  college 
where  my  poor  boy  was  ruined.  At  the 
very  gates  of  the  building  these  women  are 
watching  for  the  lads!  Ought  they  to  be 
permitted  to  debauch  young  boys  only 
fifteen  years  old?  Haven't  we  got  police 
enough  to  prevent  a  thing  like  that?  Tell 
me,  sir!" 

"One  would  think  so,"  said  the  doctor, 
patiently. 


180  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"But  is  it  that  the  police  don't  want 
to?" 

"No  doubt  they  have  the  same  excuse 
as  all  the  rest — they  don't  know.  Take 
courage,  sir;  we  have  cured  worse  cases 
than  your  son's.  And  some  day,  perhaps, 
we  shall  be  able  to  change  these  conditions." 

So  he  went  on  with  the  man,  leaving 
George  with  something  to  think  about. 
How  much  he  could  have  told  them  about 
what  had  happened  to  that  young  fellow 
when  only  fifteen  years  old!  It  had  not 
been  altogether  the  fault  of  the  women  who 
were  lurking  outside  of  the  college  gates: 
it  was  a  fact  that  the  boy's  classmates 
had  teased  him  and  ridiculed  him,  had 
literally  made  his  life  a  torment,  until  he 
had  yielded  to  temptation. 

It  was  the  old,  old  story  of  ignorant  and 
unguided  schoolboys  all  over  the  world! 
They  thought  that  to  be  chaste  was  to  be 
weak  and  foolish;  that  a  fellow  was  not  a 
man  unless  he  led  a  life  of  debauchery  like 
the  rest.  And  what  did  they  know  about 
these  dreadful  diseases?  They  had  the 
most  horrible  superstitions — ideas  of  cures 


DAMAGED  GOODS  181 

so  loathsome  that  they  could  not  be  set 
down  in  print;  ideas  as  ignorant  and  de 
structive  as  those  of  savages  in  the  heart 
of  Africa.  And  you  might  hear  them 
laughing  and  jesting  about  one  another's 
condition.  They  might  be  afflicted  with 
diseases  which  would  have  the  most  terrible 
after-effects  upon  their  whole  lives  and 
upon  their  families — diseases  which  cause 
tens  of  thousands  of  surgical  operations 
upon  women,  and  a  large  percentage  of 
blindness  and  idiocy  in  children — and  you 
might  hear  them  confidently  express  the 
opinion  that  these  diseases  were  no  worse 
than  a  bad  cold! 

And  all  this  mass  of  misery  and  ignorance 
covered  over  and  clamped  down  by  a 
taboo  of  silence,  imposed  by  the  horrible 
superstition  of  sex-prudery!  George  went 
out  from  the  doctor's  office  trembling  with 
excitement  over  this  situation.  Oh,  why 
had  not  some  one  warned  him  in  time? 
Why  didn't  the  doctors  and  the  teachers 
lift  up  their  voices  and  tell  young  men 
about  these  frightful  dangers?  He  wanted 
to  go  out  in  the  highways  and  preach  it 


182  DAMAGED  GOODS 

himself — except  that  he  dared  not,  because 
he  could  not  explain  to  the  world  his  own 
sudden  interest  in  this  forbidden  topic. 

There  was  only  one  person  he  dared  to 
talk  to:  that  was  his  mother — to  whom  he 
ought  to  have  talked  many,  many  years 
before.  He  was  moved  to  mention  to  her 
the  interview  he  had  overheard  in  the 
doctor's  office.  In  a  sudden  burst  of  grief 
he  told  her  of  his  struggles  and  temptations; 
he  pleaded  with  her  to  go  to  Henriette  once 
more — to  tell  her  these  things,  and  try  to 
make  her  realize  that  he  alone  was  not  to 
blame  for  them,  that  they  were  a  condition 
which  prevailed  everywhere,  that  the  only 
difference  between  her  husband  and  other 
men  was  that  he  had  had  the  misfortune 
to  be  caught. 

There  was  pressure  being  applied  to 
Henriette  from  several  sides.  After  all, 
what  could  she  do?  She  was  comfortable 
in  her  father's  home,  so  far  as  the  physical 
side  of  things  went;  but  she  knew  that  all 
her  friends  were  gossiping  and  speculating 
about  her  separation  from  her  husband, 
and  sooner  or  later  she  would  have  to  make 


DAMAGED  GOODS  183 

up  her  mind,  either  to  separate  permanently 
from  George  or  to  return  to  him.  There 
was  not  much  happiness  for  her  in  the 
thought  of  getting  a  divorce  from  a  man 
whom  deep  in  her  heart  she  loved.  She 
would  be  practically  a  widow  the  rest  of 
her  life,  and  the  home  in  which  poor  little 
Gervaise  would  be  brought  up  would  not 
be  a  cheerful  one. 

George  was  ready  to  offer  any  terms,  if 
only  she  would  come  back  to  his  home. 
They  might  live  separate  lives  for  as  long 
as  Henriette  wished.  They  would  have  no 
more  children  until  the  doctor  declared 
it  was  quite  safe;  and  in  the  meantime  he 
would  be  humble  and  patient,  and  would 
try  his  best  to  atone  for  the  wrong  that  he 
had  done  her. 

To  these  arguments  Madame  Dupont 
added  others  of  her  own.  She  told  the  girl 
some  things  which  through  bitter  experience 
she  had  learned  about  the  nature  and  habits 
of  men;  things  that  should  be  told  to  every 
girl  before  marriage,  but  which  almost  all 
of  them  are  left  to  find  out  afterwards, 
with  terrible  suffering  and  disillusionment. 

13 


184  DAMAGED  GOODS 

Whatever  George's  sins  may  have  been, 
he  was  a  man  who  had  been  chastened  by 
suffering,  and  would  know  how  to  value 
a  woman's  love  for  the  rest  of  his  life.  Not 
all  men  knew  that — not  even  those  who 
had  been  fortunate  in  escaping  from  the 
so-called  "  shameful  disease." 

Henriette  was  also  hearing  arguments 
from  her  father,  who  by  this  time  had  had 
time  to  think  matters  over,  and  had  come 
to  the  conclusion  that  the  doctor  was  right. 
He  had  noted  his  son-in-law's  patience 
and  penitence,  and  had  also  made  sure  that 
in  spite  of  everything  Henriette  still  loved 
him.  The  baby  apparently  was  doing 
well;  and  the  Frenchman,  with  his  strong 
sense  of  family  ties,  felt  it  a  serious  matter 
to  separate  a  child  permanently  from  its 
father.  So  in  the  end  he  cast  the  weight 
of  his  influence  in  favor  of  a  reconciliation, 
and  Henriette  returned  to  her  husband, 
upon  terms  which  the  doctor  laid  down. 

The  doctor  played  in  these  negotiations 
the  part  which  he  had  not  been  allowed  to 
play  in  the  marriage.  For  the  deputy  was 
now  thoroughly  awake  to  the  importance  of 


DAMAGED  GOODS  185 

the  duty  he  owed  his  daughter.  In  fact 
he  had  become  somewhat  of  a  "crank" 
upon  the  whole  subject.  He  had  attended 
several  of  the  doctor's  clinics,  and  had  read 
books  and  pamphlets  on  the  subject  of 
syphilis,  and  was  now  determined  that  there 
should  be  some  practical  steps  towards 
reform. 

At  the  outset,  he  had  taken  the  attitude 
of  the  average  legislator,  that  the  thing  to 
do  was  to  strengthen  the  laws  against 
prostitution,  and  to  enforce  them  more 
strictly.  He  echoed  the  cry  of  the  old 
man  whom  George  tad  heard  in  the  doctor's 
office:  "Are  there  not  enough  police?" 

"  We  must  go  to  the  source,"  he  declared. 
"We  must  proceed  against  these  miserable 
women — veritable  poisoners  that  they  are!" 

He  really  thought  this  was  going  to  the 
source!  But  the  doctor  was  quick  to 
answer  his  arguments.  "Poisoners?"  he 
said.  "You  forget  that  they  have  first 
been  poisoned.  Every  one  of  these  women 
who  communicates  the  disease  has  first 
received  it  from  some  man." 

Monsieur  Loches  advanced  to  his  second 


186  DAMAGED  GOODS 

idea,  to  punish  the  men.  But  the  doctor 
had  little  interest  in  this  idea  either.  He 
had  seen  it  tried  so  many  times — such  a 
law  could  never  be  enforced.  What  must 
come  first  was  education,  and  by  this  means 
a  modification  of  morals.  People  must 
cease  to  treat  syphilis  as  a  mysterious  evil, 
of  which  not  even  the  name  could  be 
pronounced. 

"But,"  objected  the  other,  "one  cannot 
lay  it  bare  to  children  in  our  educational 
institutions!" 

"Why  not?"  asked  the  doctor. 

"Because,  sir,  there  are  curiosities  which 
it  would  be  imprudent  to  awaken." 

The  doctor  became  much  excited  when 
ever  he  heard  this  argument.  "You  believe 
that  you  are  preventing  these  curiosities 
from  awakening?"  he  demanded.  "  I  appeal 
to  those — both  men  and  women — who  have 
passed  through  colleges  and  boarding- 
schools!  Such  curiosities  cannot  be 
smothered,  and  they  satisfy  themselves 
as  best  they  can,  basely,  vilely.  I  tell  you, 
sir,  there  is  nothing  immoral  about  the 
act  which  perpetuates  life  by  means  of  love. 


DAMAGED  GOODS  187 

But  we  organize  around  it,  so  far  as  con 
cerns  our  children,  a  gigantic  and  rigorous 
conspiracy  of  silence.  The  worthy  citizen 
takes  his  daughter  and  his  son  to  popular 
musical  comedies,  where  they  listen  to 
things  which  would  make  a  monkey  blush; 
but  it  is  forbidden  to  discuss  seriously 
before  the  young  that  act  of  love  which 
people  seem  to  think  they  should  only 
know  of  through  blasphemies  and  profana 
tions!  Either  that  act  is  a  thing  of  which 
people  can  speak  without  blushing — or  else, 
sir,  it  is  a  matter  for  the  innuendoes  of  the 
cabaret  and  the  witticisms  of  the  mess- 
room!  Pornography  is  admitted,  but 
science  is  not!  I  tell  you,  sir,  that  is  the 
thing  which  must  be  changed  !  We  must 
elevate  the  soul  of  the  young  man  by  taking 
these  facts  out  of  the  realm  of  mystery  and 
of  slang.  We  must  awaken  in  him  a  pride 
in  that  creative  power  with  which  each  one 
of  us  is  endowed.  We  must  make  him 
understand  that  he  is  a  sort  of  temple  in 
which  is  prepared  the  future  of  the  race, 
and  we  must  teach  him  that  he  must 
transmit,  intact,  the  heritage  entrusted  to 


188  DAMAGED  GOODS 

him — the  precious  heritage  which  has  been 
built  out  of  the  tears  and  miseries  and 
sufferings  of  an  interminable  line  of  ances 
tors!" 

So  the  doctor  argued.  He  brought 
forth  case  after  case  to  prove  that  the 
prostitute  was  what  she  was,  not  because 
of  innate  vileness,  but  because  of  economic 
conditions.  It  happened  that  the  deputy 
came  to  one  of  the  clinics  where  he  met 
The*r£se.  The  doctor  brought  her  into  his 
consulting  room,  after  telling  her  that  the 
imposing-looking  gentleman  was  a  friend 
of  the  director  of  the  opera,  and  might  be 
able  to  recommend  her  for  a  position  on 
the  stage  to  which  she  aspired.  "Tell  him 
all  about  yourself,"  he  said,  "how  you  live, 
and  what  you  do,  and  what  you  would  like 
to  do.  You  will  get  him  interested  in 
you." 

So  the  poor  girl  retold  the  story  of  her 
life.  She  spoke  in  a  matter-of-fact  voice, 
and  when  she  came  to  tell  how  she  had 
been  obliged  to  leave  her  baby  in  the 
foundling  asylum,  she  was  surprised  that 
Monsieur  Loches  showed  horror.  "What 


DAMAGED  GOODS  189 

could  I  do?"  she  demanded.  "How  could 
I  have  taken  care  of  it?" 

"Didn't  you  ever  miss  it?"  he  asked. 

"Of  course  I  missed  it.  But  what 
difference  did  that  make?  It  would  have 
died  of  hunger  with  me." 

"Still,"  he  said,  "it  was  your  child—" 

"  It  was  the  father's  child,  too,  wasn't  it? 
Much  attention  he  paid  to  it!  If  I  had 
been  sure  of  getting  money  enough,  I 
would  have  put  it  out  to  nurse.  But  with 
the  twenty-five  or  thirty  francs  a  month 
I  could  have  earned  as  a  servant,  could  I 
have  paid  for  a  baby?  That's  the  situation 
a  girl  faces — so  long  as  I  wanted  to  remain 
honest,  it  was  impossible  for  me  to  keep  my 
child.  You  answer,  perhaps,  'You  didn't 
stay  honest  anyway.'  That's  true.  But 
then — when  you  are  hungry,  and  a  nice 
young  fellow  offers  you  a  dinner,  you'd 
have  to  be  made  of  wood  to  refuse  him. 
Of  course,  if  I  had  had  a  trade — but  I 
didn't  have  any.  So  I  went  on  the  street — 
You  know  how  it  is." 

"Tell  us  about  it,"  said  the  doctor. 
"This  gentleman  is  from  the  country." 


190  DAMAGED  GOODS 

"Is  that  so?"  said  the  girl.  "I  never 
supposed  there  was  anyone  who  didn't 
know  about  such  things.  Well,  I  took  the 
part  of  a  little  working-girl.  A  very  simple 
dress — things  I  had  made  especially  for 
that — a  little  bundle  in  a  black  napkin 
carried  in  my  hand — so  I  walked  along 
where  the  shops  are.  It's  tiresome,  because 
to  do  it  right,  you  have  to  patter  along  fast. 
Then  I  stop  before  a  shop,  and  nine  times 
out  of  ten,  there  you  are!  A  funny  thing 
is  that  the  men — you'd  imagine  they  had 
agreed  on  the  words  to  approach  you  with. 
They  have  only  two  phrases;  they  never 
vary  them.  It's  either,  'You  are  going 
fast,  little  one.'  Or  it's,  'Aren't  you  afraid 
all  alone?'  One  thing  or  the  other.  One 
knows  pretty  well  what  they  mean.  Isn't 
it  so?"  The  girl  paused,  then  went  on. 
"Again,  I  would  get  myself  up  as  a  young 
widow.  There,  too,  one  has  to  walk  fast: 
I  don't  know  why  that  should  be  so,  but 
it  is.  After  a  minute  or  two  of  conversation, 
they  generally  find  out  that  I  am  not  a 
young  widow,  but  that  doesn't  make  any 
difference — they  go  on  just  the  same." 


O 
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co 

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UJ 
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OS- 

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u. 
O 


O 

UJ 


DAMAGED   GOODS  191 

"Who  are  the  men?"  asked  the  deputy. 
"Clerks?  Traveling  salesmen?" 

"Not  much,"  she  responded.  "I  keep  a 
lookout  for  gentlemen — like  yourself." 

"They  say  they  are  gentlemen/'  he 
suggested. 

"Sometimes  I  can  see  it,"  was  the 
response.  "Sometimes  they  wear  orders. 
It's  funny — if  they  have  on  a  ribbon  when 
you  first  notice  them,  they  follow  you,  and 
presto — the  ribbon  is  gone !  I  always  laugh 
over  that.  I've  watched  them  in  the  glass 
of  the  shop  windows.  They  try  to  look 
unconcerned,  but  as  they  walk  along  they 
snap  out  the  ribbon  with  their  thumb — 
as  one  shells  little  peas,  you  know." 

She  paused;  then,  as  no  one  joined  hi  her 
laugh,  she  continued,  "Well,  at  last  the 
police  got  after  me.  That's  a  story  that 
I've  never  been  able  to  understand.  Those 
filthy  men  gave  me  a  nasty  disease,  and 
then  I  was  to  be  shut  in  prison  for  it!  That 
was  a  little  too  much,  it  seems  to  me." 

"Well,"  said  the  doctor,  grimly,  "you 
revenged  yourself  on  them — from  what  you 
have  told  me." 


192  DAMAGED   GOODS 

The  other  laughed.  "Oh,  yes,"  she  said. 
"  I  had  my  innings.  She  turned  to  Monsieur 
Loches.  "You  want  me  to  tell  you  that? 
Well,  just  on  the  very  day  I  learned  that 
the  police  were  after  me,  I  was  coming  home 
furious,  naturally.  It  was  on  the  Boulevard 
St.  Denis,  if  you  know  the  place — and  whom 
do  you  think  I  met?  My  old  master — 
the  one  who  got  me  into  trouble,  you  know. 
There  it  was,  God's  own  will!  I  said  to 
myself,  'Now,  my  good  fellow,  here's  the 
time  where  you  pay  me  what  you  owe  me, 
and  with  interest,  too!'  I  put  on  a  little 
smile — oh,  it  didn't  take  very  long,  you 
may  be  sure!" 

The  woman  paused;  her  face  darkened, 
and  she  went  on,  in  a  voice  trembling  with 
agitation:  "When  I  had  left  him,  I  was 
seized  with  a  rage.  A  sort  of  madness  got 
into  my  blood.  I  took  on  all  the  men  who 
offered  themselves,  for  whatever  they  offered 
me,  for  nothing,  if  they  didn't  offer  me 
anything.  I  took  as  many  as  I  could,  the 
youngest  ones  and  the  handsomest  ones. 
Just  so!  I  only  gave  them  back  what  they 
had  given  to  me.  And  since  that  time  I 


DAMAGED  GOODS  193 

haven't  really  cared  about  anyone  any 
more.  I  just  turned  it  all  into  a  joke." 
She  paused,  and  then  looking  at  the  deputy, 
and  reading  in  his  face  the  horror  with 
which  he  was  regarding  her,  "Oh,  I  am 
not  the  only  one!"  she  exclaimed.  " There 
are  lots  of  other  women  who  do  the  same. 
To  be  sure,  it  is  not  for  vengeance — it  is 
because  they  must  have  something  to  eat. 
For  even  if  you  have  syphilis,  you  have 
to  eat,  don't  you?  Eh?" 

She  had  turned  to  the  doctor,  but  he 
did  not  answer.  There  was  a  long  silence; 
and  then  thinking  that  his  friend,  the 
deputy,  had  heard  enough  for  one  session, 
the  doctor  rose.  He  dismissed  the  woman, 
the  cause  of  all  George  Dupont's  misfor 
tunes,  and  turning  to  Monsieur  Loches, 
said:  "It  was  on  purpose  that  I  brought 
that  wretched  prostitute  before  you.  In 
her  the  whole  story  is  summed  up — not 
merely  the  story  of  your  son-in-law,  but 
that  of  all  the  victims  of  the  red  plague. 
That  woman  herself  is  a  victim,  and  she  is 
a  symbol  of  the  evil  which  we  have  created 
and  which  falls  upon  our  own  heads  again 


194  DAMAGED   GOODS 

I  could  add  nothing  to  her  story,  I  only 
ask  you,  Monsieur  Loches — when  next  you 
are  proposing  new  laws  in  the  Chamber  of 
Deputies,  not  to  forget  the  horrors  which 
that  poor  woman  has  exposed  to  you!" 


THE    END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA,  LOS  ANGELES 

THE  UNIVERSITY  LIBRARY 
This  book  is  DUE  on  the  last  date  stamped  below 


MAR  2  6  1945 


JUL 


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25m-10,'  14(2491) 


66 


UNI 


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